


Black on Black

by JaxMan



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Complete, Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Henroin is an asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Smut, gratuitous italian in chapter 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 39,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxMan/pseuds/JaxMan
Summary: Arackniss and Sir Pentious have some things in common. Namely, both woke up in the same bed this morning.
Relationships: Arackniss/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 168
Kudos: 546





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not 'canon' to my SpiderSnake series. Just putting that out there.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

It was just a job.

Team up with the snake, crack the safe, split the profit. That was it. That was all he had to do.

What went wrong? How did this happen? 

How did Arackniss, famed mobster, end up in Sir Pentious's bed?

The black spider cast a nervous glance to the side. There he was, coiled up and gently snoring. His shoulders rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, long, black hair (hood?) draped down his back. Arackniss couldn't see his face, but he was clearly sound asleep. Maybe Arackniss could just leave before he woke.

The spider carefully slipped out from under the sheets and onto the hardwood floor. This wasn't right. Arackniss wasn't, you know, 'like that.' It was just... a misunderstanding. Yeah, that's it. A mistake that he would *never bring up again.*

Sir Pentious gave a sleepy mumble as he stirred. Was he waking up? What would Arackniss say if he did? 'My bad?' And what if the snake spoke up about it? What would the Family think? What would his *father-*

The other half of the bed went silent once more. False alarm. Still, it didn't change the fact that Arackniss had fucked up.

Homosexuality had ruined his brother, Anthony (or "Angel Dust," as he insisted on calling himself). He used to be pop's favorite, and now look at him. Coked out of his mind, taking donkey-sized dicks on camera while that pimp of his made bank. There was no fucking way Arackniss was ending up like that.

His head throbbed and his guts writhed like a bag of sna- worms. This was more than shame. What had even happened last night? He remembered finishing the job, returning to Sir Pentious's lair with the Family, and having a few celebratory drinks. 

Maybe more than a few. Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

He suppressed a shiver as he hurriedly searched for his clothes. If anyone asked, he was just hungover on the couch. His father would still 'discipline' him, sure, but he wouldn't be cast out. He'd still have a family. They wouldn't have to know about this.

He tried to dress as quietly as he could. Just go home, tell them the cover story, worry about the snake later. Yeah.

He reached for the door. Tried to slow his breathing. Tried to stop shaking. It was fine. Everything was fine. 

He quietly opened the door. On the other side was the lair's ornate main room. It was a vast a lounge, complete with a grand piano, leather seating, a well-stocked bar, and several hungover members of the Family.

Every one of them snapped to look at the spider, including a massive tarantula demon sprawled on a couch.

Henroin, Arackniss's father.

He stared at Arackniss.

Arackniss stared back.

His eight eyes drifted to the bedroom behind his son, and the slumbering serpent within. He wore no expression, but a vein on his forehead twitched.

Arackniss gently closed the door.

He was still here? Oh, no. Oh, God no. Maybe he didn't see. No, he saw. He saw everything. Arackniss had to think of something. Quickly. He opened the door again and tried to force something out. Anything.

"Pop, you're, ah, still here."

The massive, hairy mobster just glared at his son, bloodshot eyes still wide with disbelief and rage.

He stood, casting a shadow over the crowd. 

"Let's go. We got a reputation to keep."

Arackniss started to follow, but a glance from Henroin stopped him.

"I was talkin' to the Family. Not you."

And then they left. Just like that.

And Arackniss was alone.

Alone with the snake.

...

Sir Pentious awoke to hell's red sunlight, an empty bed, and the last of yesterday's wine buzzing in his head.

Already, he was having a good day.

He slithered out of his room, and found that his 'guests' were gone. Lovely! They'd drunk enough liquor to kill an elephant, but that was to be expected. He had gotten his share of the 'earnings,' and a few bottles of liquor was pocket change for a criminal mastermind like him. 

The Hommunculi ('Egg-boys,' as the barely-literate masses called them) worked tirelessly to clean up after the rowdy mafiosos. They were little more than cannon fodder in battle, but acceptable servants nonetheless.

"Tea. Now. And some breakfast. Caviar on toasted brioche, with creme fraiche."

The bumbling ovoids should be able to handle that, surely. As they got to work in the kitchen, dropping pans and spilling ingredients, Pentious reclined on a sofa. Something felt wrong. Like he was forgetting some important detail.

He had his take. The heist, powered by his technology, had gone off without a hitch. And he had earned the respect of the Pentagram City Mob. If something were wrong, it didn't matter. He tried to clear the alcohol from his mind. The previous night had been reduced to a haze. There was drinking, celebration, and...

"...You."

A dark, diminutive figure growled from the shadows, his trembling voice dripping with contempt.

"Excussse me?" Sir Pentious leered back. He didn't naturally over-pronounce the 's,' but he had a 'persssona' to uphold.

"You ruined me."

The shadow stepped into the light. A dark, spidery demon. One who looked a lot like Henroin's son...

Oh, no. 

"The Family. They left me here. Because of you."

Eight crimson eyes shone with malice. Four hands curled into skaky fists. His voice raised to a shout.

"You *ruined me, you reptilian son of a--!"*

"--Breakfast!" Three Hommunculi wobbled out, carrying a tray of rye- *not* brioche- topped with caviar and what appeared to be *yogurt.* Hopeless. They looked between the two demons, confused (but then, were they ever not?). 

"Uh, boss, you didn't tell us you were having another guest over!"

Pentious stared at the spider. Half a bottle of last night's port slowed his mind to a crawl. He would know exactly what to do, if it weren't for that damned wine.

The spider stared at him. He was clearly holding back a surge of rage and sorrow.

One thing was clear. Neither of them had the mob on his side any longer.

Pentious sighed and rubbed his temples, as if it would somehow clear the alcohol from his brain. After all the planning, all the cooperation, all the time spent hiding his romantic preferences from that god-damned tarantula, he'd ruined everything in one drunken night.

He could have kicked the man out. He could have brushed this encounter off and taken the loss in stride, er, slither. After all, he was Sir Pentious! He had every opportunity in Hell, who cared if one slid by?

And yet...

The dark-haired spider sank to his knees. The anger slowly drained from his face, but the anguish remained. Tears welled in his eyes, and his voice became a hoarse, choked whisper.

"...You ruined me."

Pentious didn't throw him to the curb. That would have been... ungentlemanly, to say the least. He was a criminal, a villain even, but he had *standards.*

But that wasn't all. Seeing him dejected, hopeless, abandoned by his kin, it brought back memories. Sir Pentious had been forced to hide that part of himself, too, when he was alive. Even in Hell, it was safer to keep such affairs private. 

Shame the spider couldn't do that anymore.

The serpent sighed. The situation was far from ideal, but it would have to do.

"There's a guest bedroom on the second floor. You can stay there if you like." 

Those red eyes looked back up at him, tired and tearful. Pentious's heart skipped a beat in sympathy, and his breath caught in... also sympathy. Yes, that.

"For now, there's breakfast. Would you like some tea?"

He tried to smile reassuringly, as if the man's afterlife hadn't just been torn apart in front of him. He helped the spider to his feet and led him to the dining room. 

Then they had breakfast.

Mercy was a weakness in Hell. It was a gap in the armor that every demon had to wear from the day they fell, to their last moments at the end of an exterminator's spear. Those foolish enough to show it become targets for every fraudster in the abyss. 

And yet, here he was. Giving free room and board to another demon, out of the kindness of his blackened heart.

Damned fool.


	2. Chapter 2

  
It was late in the morning. Rain had begun pouring outside the Serpent's Lair, home to the infamous warlord known as Sir Pentious. 

And now also Arckniss, disowned son of Henroin. A miserable outcast of the Pentagram City Mafia.

Nothing more.

"So, um..."

The two demons sat at opposite ends of the massive dining room table. Arackniss stared, motionless, at his caviar on toast. Sir Pentious tried not to look worried as he sipped his tea.

"It's going to get cold, you know."

Nothing made sense anymore. Arackniss wasn't a homosexual, no matter what happened the previous night. That was just...

Just what? He didn't fucking know, but it happened. At least his father hadn't lost his temper. Not like he did with Anthony.

"...More tea?"

He looked up at Sir Pentious, who was still trying his best to seem aloof. He didn't have to let Arackniss stay here.

So what's the catch?

This was Hell, after all. Nothing was free, and generosity was a four-letter word. He was no longer affiliated with the Family, so what could he offer in return? He had nothing.

Nothing but his body...

He put that discomforting thought aside. He would live on the streets before he ended up like his brother.

"Are you... all right?" The words came our slowly, carefully, as if Sir Pentious were handling a fragile object. Afraid of dropping it and letting it shatter into a thousand worthless fragments.

Arackniss involuntarily curled his fingers.

He turned his gaze to the serpent. How to answer that? Last night, he was on top of the world. Now he was an outcast, relying on handouts from a stranger. He was nothing- no, less than nothing. A burden and a disgrace to his family, just like Anthony.

"I'm fine."

A few more minutes of silence, interrupted only by the clinking of silverware. He tried to take a bite, but the meal had gone cold. He didn't have an appetite, anyway.

"Hey."

Pentious's voice was soft. Caring, even. 

"About last night."

Arackniss's heart skipped a beat. Did that snake expect him to...? No. He wasn't a whore, no matter what. Dignity was the last thing he had, and by God he was keeping it. He had to set things straight.

"I'm not a..."

Not a what? If he didn't speak carefully, he could end up on the street.

"I'm not like that."

Judging by the face he made, Sir Pentious wasn't buying it.

"I'm not! This was just a..."

Go on. Say it.

A mistake. An accident.

But the words caught in his throat. 

His fists clenched. His shoulders trembled and his eyes moistened.

He wasn't like this. He was Arackniss, Henroin's son, God dammit! Not some helpless, weeping homosexual.

And yet, here he was. Helpless, weeping...

The rest of the meal was silent.

...

Sir Pentious coiled on a sofa, across from his guest. If they were going to live together, they might as well get to know one another.

That was the plan, anyway, but the rain and the ticking clock seemed louder than ever as minutes passed in silence. Every one of Pentious's attempts to get a dialogue going were met with one-word answers.

Finally, the spider spoke up.

"I need a drink."

"Oh, more tea?" Poor thing hadn't even touched his cup, it must have gone cold by now.

"Something stiff. Shit, I mean, hard!"

He buried his head in his hands with a moan.

"*Alcohol!* Christ, I'm turning into Anthony!"

"Anthony...?" One of the mobsters from the previous night?

"My brother. You probably know him better as 'Angel Dust.'"

Sir Pentious choked on his tea. Angel Dust?! The second greatest thorn in his side, next to that harlot 'Cherri Bomb?'

The spider just chuckled. He'd had this conversation dozens of times.

"Yeah, that's everyone's reaction. And no, I'm not getting you his autograph."

The serpent threw up his arms with a huff.

"As *If!* He's been pestering my operation for years! He and that 'Cherri Bomb' hooligan!"

He flopped back on the couch, tail twitching in annoyance as Arackniss snickered into his ice-cold tea. Anthony always had a way of wreaking havoc, and it was good to meet someone who agreed.

Especially someone with such lovely eyes...

No. That's not who he was. This was just a conversation.

...Right?

"Still doing that crazy shit, huh? Heh, good to know that nothing's changed."

Pentious made a sound, a cross between a sigh and a miserable moan. He hadn't planned to talk about those two annoyances today, but there he was. 

At least Arackniss seemed happy.

"So, he's rolling with Cherri Bomb, is he?"

The snake gave him a confused look.

"For years. He didn't tell you?"

"Nope. We ain't talked since he got..."

Kicked out. Disowned. 

*Abandoned.*

Arackniss rubbed his temples. He hadn't talked to his brother since they were alive. Anthony got caught with a man, and nobody wanted anything to do with him after that. 

He felt like a fucking hypocrite.

Sir Pentious must have noticed, since he awkwardly tried to change the subject.

"Music! Would you like some music?"

The dark-haired spider just sighed.

"Look, you don't have to do this."

The serpent started to speak, but his protest was cut off.

"You've been a good host, and a great guy. I just..."

He turned his eyes to the floor.

"I just don't wanna burden you. I'm tougher than I look, I can live on the streets, or..."

He didn't get to finish as Sir Pentious gently placed a hand on his own.

When he was young, barely even a man, Arackniss had his first taste of whiskey. His head got lighter and a pleasant warmth tingled throughout his whole body. It felt like wrapping up in a warm blanket on a cold night, and listening to the pouring rain. He'd spent decades chasing that buzz, but it was never the same. Sure, it was nice, but the magic was gone.

And now, here it was again.

Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around Pentious's hand.

He felt the demon slide onto the couch, next to him.

He leaned into Pentious, and a dark pair of arms encircled him.

His heart throbbed against his chest as the tears began to flow once more.

And then they held each other, listening to the rain.

...

That night, Sir Pentious coiled up in his bed, trying and failing to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw eight more staring back, welling with tears.

He understood heartbreak. He had lost his wife twice. Once when she fell ill, and again when he landed in Hell, only to realize that she hadn't. Neither had their son, it seemed.

Over the decades, the pain had subsided. But seeing this spider, this 'Arackniss,' reminded him what it was like to lose everything.

He tossed, turned, writhed as if it would tear him free of the memories.

He just wanted to say that it would be alright. He wanted to be the person *he* needed, all those years ago.

But *why?* He thought Hell had beaten the compassion out of him. He thought he'd become as evil as every other demon, acting only for himself. He was an Overlord, for Satan's sake! To be feared was all he wanted!

But that morning, something had changed.

Somehow, sympathy had slithered back into his heart.

...

Arackniss dreamed of warm scales, long hair, and soft, black lips. 

He dreamed of tender hands, how they held him, stroked his body in the right ways.

He dreamed of his family, his two siblings, his father and mother, all together again, just like old times.

But he didn't remember those dreams. He didn't know why he woke up crying the next morning.

All he knew was that something was missing.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Early the next morning, there was a knock on the door of the Serpent's Lair.

Sir Pentious answered, trying his best to look as menacing as possible while holding his morning cup of tea.

"Who *dares* intrude--?"

A pink, fluffy spider stared back at him, trying to hide genuine worry behind a smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir Pentious. Is Arackniss here?"

...

Arackniss woke up in tears, but a wave of relief quickly washed over him. 

It was all just a nightmare. It must have been.

He was still Arackniss, proud member of the Family, the son of Henroin! All of his worrying, his confusion, it was gone. Once again, he knew who he was!

But as his eyes swept around the guest bedroom, his heart sank. 

No. He was still abandoned. Still relying on the kindness of a near-stranger. And if that tenuous relationship were to break...

He lay there a while, waiting for the 'what ifs' and 'should'ves' to stop bouncing around his head. They didn't.

Yesterday's suit lay crumpled and unwashed on the floor, and none of Sir Pentious's clothes would fit (him being half snake and all). He settled for an old night robe that hung loosely off his skinny frame. It would have to do.

He slowly shuffled down the stairs to the lounge. Was it too early for liquor? Maybe, but this was a special occasion.

That's odd. Sounded like Pentious was talking to someone. Was he expecting company?

As he reached the ground floor, the new guest came into view. No, it couldn't be...

"...Molly?"

"RAKKIE!"

The pink demon shot to him like a bullet and lifted him off the floor in a tight hug.

"I'm so, so sorry, Rakkie. I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay? Is he treating you okay? Oh, God, dad didn't lose it on you, did he?"

Arackniss took a moment to find his tongue. He thought the Family had left him to rot, yet here she was. 

And despite everything, she still cared.

"You're not... upset?"

The smile left her face, and angry tears welled in her eyes.

"You're damn right I am! The old bastard just tosses you out, after everything you've done for the Family?"

She finally let go, and her expression shifted to one of sorrow.

"I thought he'd gotten better since he did it to Angel, but he's even madder now than he was then."

A thought occurred. An unlikely, but dark one.

"He didn't... take it out on you, did he?"

"No! God, no. He's a mean sonuva bitch, but no."

He felt a twinge of relief, but not surprise. Henroin always reserved that for the boys.

Molly put on another smile, this one of weary relief.

"Let's go have a seat. Wouldn't want the tea to get cold."

...

Molly had a talent for conversation. She could bring life to any room, no matter how sour the mood, and knew how to steer a conversation like driving a car.

Sir Pentious, on the other hand, did not.

"It's all in the thermal coil. It doesn't matter how much power you add to the plasma tube, a low-quality thermal coil will let all that heat leak out like... um, something that... doesn't hold heat very well. You see?"

Molly nodded and tried to look interested, all the while looking for a chance to change the subject. Arackniss just stared off into space, transfixed.

Wait, not into space. She followed his gaze to Pentious's flowing hair, his deep red eyes, and his ever-so-slightly exposed chest.

If she had any doubt about her brother's newfound identity, it was gone.

She'd never taken him for the romantic type, especially not toward other men. His distaste for gays had even poisoned his opinion on Angel. How long had he felt this way?

His body language said even more. He absentmindedly dug his fingers into the leather sofa, clenching and relaxing them in turn. Ever since they were kids, it was a clear sign that he was upset. Same with his straight back and squared shoulders.

Something was eating at him. 

"...Naturally, my first thought was the arcane inhibition field. I ran a diagnostic, but it..."

Pentious's rambling stopped as he saw Molly's concern.

"Everything all right, madam?"

"Hm? Oh! I was just thinking that I wouldn't mind a refill of tea, if you'd be so kind."

She gave her most charming smile. Platonic, of course. She didn't want to steal Rakkie's man.

"Oh, of course! One moment."

As he slithered off to the kitchen, teapot in hand, Molly inched closer to Arackniss and lowered her voice.

"Real charmer, isn't he?" Did that sound sarcastic? She hoped not.

Her brother hung his head for a moment before speaking.

"What have I done?"

"No, no. Shh. You didn't do anything wrong here." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Yes I did, Molly. I fucked it all up. My life, my place in the Family, I just went and fucked it away."

She was hugging him even before he finished.

"Rakkie, if dad doesn't see what you're worth, that's his fault. Look at me."

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. All eight of them shimmered with confusion, anger, and despair, but also a glimmer of hope.

"You. Did nothing. Wrong. If dad doesn't like it, fuck him." Insulting their father was a risk. Arackniss always looked up to the man, even at his worst. Still, he needed to know this.

"I just... wanted him to be proud of me."

He was gonna cry. *She* was gonna cry. God, why'd it have to be like this?

"I know. I know, I know, I know. But there's only one person who gets to decide what's best for you."

She stopped to blink back tears and force a smile.

"You're the smartest, most capable man I know. Don't let anybody tell you different."

And she meant every word.

As they hugged one more time, she heard the kettle begin to whistle. Not much time left for privacy.

"One more thing, you don't have to answer. How long have you known?"

He gave a small, sad smile.

"Since just before Pops did."

Only a few seconds before Sir Pentious was back. Once more, she looked him in the eyes.

"You'll be okay. I promise."

And she meant that, too.

As Sir Pentious entered with a fresh pot of tea, Molly took note of her brother's body language.

Already, Arackniss seemed better off. The weight of his situation had eased, if just a little. He had a long way to go, but he was getting there.

Hell, she could swear she caught him giving Pentious the 'fuck me' eyes (not that he noticed). He'd never been this way for anyone before.

Maybe she should head out, give them some privacy.

Devil knew he deserved it.

...

Molly stayed just long enough to swap phone numbers and make Arackniss promise to call her once in a while. He'd always been a loner, but it seemed things were changing. So was he.

After she left, the two demons sat down together, staying a few feet apart as they talked.

"I... I still have family." Arackniss could hardly believe it. Their father must have forbade her from seeing him, and nobody crossed an angry Henroin. 

Pentious said nothing, but put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Arackniss leaned into his embrace and closed his eyes.

Molly was always the caring sister, even when he fucked up. 

No, not 'fucked up.' After everything she'd done for him, he could at least take her advice.

He owed her that much.

As he basked in his new companion's warmth, he felt a scaly chin rest on his head.

Every one of his instincts told him to pull away, to storm out and put these degenerate feelings out of mind forever. He didn't need a single goddamn person but himself! He could make it on his own, start his own gang, and prove to his father that he was still worthy of the family name. They would see.

But even if Henroin accepted him again, how could Arackniss go back? He'd never felt like this, not for anyone. He'd unearthed a new life, and there was no way he was going to bury it again.

Not a chance in Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, sweet Muse, why must you put these feels into my heart?


	4. Chapter 4

  
A criminal mastermind could seldom take the day off, it seemed.

As much as he would have preferred otherwise, Sir Pentious couldn't stay with his guest all day. He had responsibilities, after all. Machines needed maintenance, parts had to be ordered, and the 'egg boys' needed their twice-daily feeding and positive affirmations.

Arackniss needed some time alone, anyway. Just a chance to collect his thoughts, get himself in order, all that stuff.

Molly's advice still rang in his ears. 'If dad doesn't like it, then fuck him.' Were it so easy.

Henroin was a cold, mean son of a bitch, no doubt. But he also bought Arackniss his first beer, showed him how to shoot a gun, and raised three kids after mom died. 

Only for two of them to become...

Argh. No. He had to get those thoughts out of his mind.

He pulled out his 'Hell-phone' (probably a fad, he didn't know what Molly saw in the things) and began to scroll through the news. He quickly found exactly what he was looking for: a distraction.

Some bank vault got cracked open (heh), some noble was robbed last night (a book? Who'd bother to steal a book?), someone got shot at Vox's office complex, and...

"Mafia 'In Bed' With Warlord Wannabe!"

"This morning, an anonymous source told the Pentagram Post of an affair between a high-ranking member of the Pentagram City Mob and nefarious nuisance 'Sir Pentious!' Details are still emerging, but this may be related to the rumored disowning of mob boss Henroin's son, Arackniss! Strange bedfellows, indeed!"

There was more.

Arackniss didn't read it.

He needed a fucking drink.

...

He checked the exhaust vents. He double-checked the arcanum compression matrix. He even ran a diagnostic on the proto-etherial generator!

Sir Pentious could find no source for the oil leak, and it was driving him insane.

He slumped against the airship's bulkhead, head hurting from the the hangar's heat. The din of the machines, the temperature, and the weight of recent events (and emotions) were all getting to him.

Probably the fumes, too. Good thing he was already dead.

He decided to leave his workshop to wash up, put on something nice, and maybe talk to his...

What, partner? Boyfriend? The thought put butterflies in his stomach. He didn't think that was possible anymore, and here he was, all over this man like ferrofluid to a magnet.

What were they, even? They'd only known each other for a few days. 

He sighed as he cast off his greasy work clothes and slid into the shower. 

He hadn't been in a 'relationship' in over a century, so he was naturally a bit hazy.

Were they always this complicated? Couldn't they just, you know, talk it out?

Maybe they weren't even 'together.' Maybe these feelings would subside, and it would all go back to normal. 

But on the other hand, he might as well make himself, um, 'presentable.' For his 'guest.'

Would lavender-scented exfoliant be too much? What about scale polish?

He tried not to think too much about Arackniss. 

If he did, the shower would be even longer.

...

The Serpent's Lair towered over the surrounding buildings, an ornate mishmash of masonry, brick, and brass fittings. Everyone in the neighborhood knew and respected its owner. Sir Pentious might have been a bit 'odd,' but he kept order against the gangs and warlords. Plus, his factory was great for the local economy.

A door opened on one of the upper floors, and a teary-eyed demon stumbled out onto a balcony. He fumbled a bottle of hard liquor, before taking a deep breath and shouting out to the world:

"ATTENTION, ASSHOLES: FUCK. YOU. ALL!"

He took a swig, and continued.

"...YOOOUU MOTHERFUCKERS CAN'T LET *NOBODY* EVER BE... uh, fuckin,' uh... HAPPY! NOBODY!!"

He shouted his heart out to the entire world. They'd all hear him. They'd all know that he wasn't having their shit for one second longer!

Nobody actually heard him from that height, but that was beside the point. He shouted again at the uncaring city below.

"NOBODYYY!!"

"Arackniss...?"

The drunk spider whipped around to see Pentious in the doorway, confusion and concern in his eyes.

"Look, Pent. Look what they fuckin' said about us."

He held his phone out for Sir Pentious to see. It was some hit piece on them, probably financed by one of his rivals. Nothing new.

Still, he hated to see Arackniss in such a state. The way they outed him to the world was just... cruel. But this was Hell, and nobody was immune to--

Wait. 'Warlord wannabe?' *'Nuisance?'*

What the *fuck?*

...

"*INSSSOLENCE!!*"

"YEAH, INSOLENCE!"

"YOU FOOLSSS WILL *RUE THE DAY* YOU *DARED* INSULT ARACKNISS AND SIR PENTIOUSSS!"

"EAT DICKS, DOUCHEBAGS!"

Two demons stood on the balcony, drinking and shouting into the cool afternoon air.

"THE PENTAGRAM POSSST'S JOURNALISM IS SHODDY, AT *BESSST!*"

There was something delightfully awkward about Sir Pentious. It was always there, hiding just under his suave persona, but right then it was coming out in force. Arackniss couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"YOU COULDN'T SSSTAY AWAY FROM DRAMA IF IT WERE A... A... CLEARLY LABELED THERMAL REACTOR!"

He didn't know what that meant, but boy did it sound angry.

"JEALOUS BITCHES, THAT'S ALL YOU ARE! JEALOUS OF MY FUCKIN' MAN!!"

Pentious was about to yell into the empty air again, but he stopped. His... man? Did his drunken ears hear that right?

Arackniss extended four middle fingers to the world and shouted again.

"YOU AAALLL THINK I'M JUST HENROIN'S LITTLE MONSTER, BUT I'M MY OWN FUCKIN' PERSON! I DO WHAT I WANT! EVEN *THIS!!!*"

He reached over and pulled his man into a deep kiss. 

Arackniss felt those warm scales, ran fingers through that long hair, and tasted the wine on those soft, black lips.

Tender hands held him, and he shivered as they gently ran along his spine.

Sir Pentious smelled like lavender and alcohol. It was a damn good combination.

They couldn't make it to the bedroom fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one's gonna be a little nsfw. Or a lot nsfw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. This one's pretty NSFW. I updated the tags, but here's your last notice!

  
It wasn't the first time Arackniss had done this. First he could remember, maybe, but not the first ever.

[And damn, he hoped it wouldn't be the last.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=joT4ECIiKAM)

The two burst into Pent's bedroom, just like they had before. Only now, they weren't just two strangers having a drunken fuck, settling for whoever was willing.

This time, they only wanted each other.

Their garments hit the floor, all but forgotten in lust. Arackniss pushed Pentious onto the bed as gently as his horny, whiskey-soaked brain would allow. He looked down for just a moment, admiring the soft, slender body below him. 

Everything about this man, from the bright yellow chest against his dark frame, to his soft hair splaying out over the pillows, to those big, crimson eyes that promised him the world...

*Christ,* did it turn him on.

Four hands ran along the serpent's body, playing with his hair, caressing the sides of his face. They stroked his skin and brushed against his delicate lips, feeling a forked tongue gently flicking between their fingers. 

His heart could have gone on forever, but his body had other plans.

Arackniss's eyes drifted shut as he leaned low over Sir Pentious. Their lips teased each other, then brushed together, then gently connected in a passionate kiss. It was like pouring his soul into his man.

'His man.' Did he really mean that, or was it the booze speaking? Fuck it, he'd figure out his 'feelings' later. For now, all his questions were drowned in a tide of *want.*

As he worked his way down from Pent's black lips, to his tender neck, to his slender hips, the heat grew into an inferno.

"Nh, yes... further..."

He didn't need another word. He reached down to find...

"T... two?"

Was he seeing double? *Feeling* double?

He looked back up to meet his man's gaze, confused. 

Pentious returned it with a little smile, as if to say 'yeah, two. Think you can handle 'em?'

Arackniss couldn't wait to find out. He had no idea what he was doing. But damn, did he love it.

Every sigh, every whisper, they drove him wild as he massaged Pent's lower body, ready to go even further.

And further he went, tracing a hand down each of Pentious's shafts, gently teasing the delicate flesh as he went, evoking a little moan from the beautiful serpent.

A thin, clear line of pre trailed down each one. He must have been doing something right.

So why not go a little further than that?

Hesitantly, he planted a small kiss on the left tip. Drunk as he was, there was no need to rush this.

Sir Pentious gave a little hiss as he gripped the sheets even tighter. Arackniss had never guessed that pleasuring someone would feel this good.

Slowly, he put his lips around the tip. Gently, he began to go down. Carefully, he--

"Ah! Stop, stop, stop."

Arackniss jolted up in alarm. Had he gone too far?

"Mind the teeth! Here, let me show you."

Arackniss hesitated for just a moment. A dark, clawed finger lifted his chin, before a gentle whisper pushed him to the edge.

"I can do more with this tongue than 'hisss,' you know."

Pentious guided him onto his back, and began working his years of experience. Arackniss almost melted right there, as that forked tongue flicked over his body and teased the sensitive skin beneath. 

He ran a gentle, shaking hand through Pent's hair, and swore to hold out as long as he could.

It was difficult, to say the least.

...

That poor little spider, almost ready to burst. He hated to see his man so *uncomfortable...*

But Sir Pentious wanted this to last.

It had been so long since his last encounter, after all. Why not enjoy the moment a little longer, hm?

Gently, he slithered down until he was level with Arackniss's rock-hard manhood. Before he even touched it, presex dribbled from the tip. Poor thing must have been *so* worked up...

Pentious could fix that.

He just barely flicked his tongue against the tip, and Arackniss's entire body shuddered. He stroked it from tip to base, ever so slowly, before placing it against his lips. He tasted Arackniss's desire, felt his twitching body, heard the pleasure in his quick, quiet breaths.

He waited just long enough for his spider to squirm, before sliding all the way down his length. It had been years since he'd done this, but he remembered his technique perfectly. Lips over the teeth, rub the tip against the roof of his mouth, and work the underside with his tongue. 

Arackniss's muffled squeak was a testament to his prowess. 

Slowly, he pulled back, wrapping his tongue around the shaft as he went. He looked upward to see his man's face. Not that he needed the approval, or anything. 

Arackniss clenched the sheets with white knuckles, his breaths quick and heavy as he tried not to make a sound. Oh, Arackniss. Ever the stoic, even in bed.

Pentious could fix that, too.

He let go, feeling a trail of saliva and presex still connecting his lips to his man's cock. He placed a soft kiss on the underside, feeling it twitch again.

"Say my name," he purred.

"P... Pentious..."

He was trying so hard to hold on. No matter.

Sir Pentious loved a challenge.

"Forgetting something, aren't we?"

He rested his chin on one hand. With the other, he played with Arackniss's cock, awaiting a more 'proper' response. A little grin crept onto his face as the spider struggled to find his tongue. 

"S-- *Sir* Pentious..."

Sir Pentious didn't make him wait a second longer. His lips, his tongue, they caressed Arackniss's length in ways nobody else ever had. 

It wasn't long before it got too much for poor Arackniss, who came with a little moan of pleasure.

Pentious didn't spill a drop.

"Was it good for you?" 

Sir Pentious already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway. He wanted to hear the panting 'yes,' or the stunned silence, or the blushing denial.

Arackniss took a deep, slow breath before answering.

"...Was?"

Drunken lust dripped from his voice as he leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on Pentious's cheek. 

"I'm not done 'til you are, Penny."

...

Dammit, he swore he'd last longer than that. Fuck it, plan B.

He met Pentious's lips with his own, and tasted... something he couldn't quite describe. Pretty obvious what it was, though.

Slowly, he went down as the serpent laid back. A clawed hand ran through his hair as he picked up where he left off. 

Two shafts greeted him once again. He wasted no time getting to work, giving each one the attention it deserved. He wasn't just doing this for his own pleasure, not any more. He wanted to give back to the man who'd taken him in and accepted him for who he was, even when the Family didn't.

And even more, he wanted to prove that he could.

He knew he was clumsy. He knew that he was awkward.

But damn, if he wasn't willing to learn.

He picked a tip, put it up to his lips, and whispered.

"Tell me what to do."

Pentious started breathing a little faster.

"Lips over the teeth."

He tried it, and managed to get down the first quarter of his length. Jesus, would the rest even fit?

"Hold your breath..."

He did, and Pent's hand rested on the back of his head.

"...And trust me."

Shock flooded over Arackniss as he was slowly, but firmly, pushed all the way down to the hilt. His eyes widened and his body tensed, but he didn't struggle against it. No, he was too proud to back out now.

He stayed there for a few seconds, but it felt much, much longer. Finally, Pentious released his hand, and Arackniss jerked back, coughing and sputtering. He looked up to see one very smug snake.

"Not as easy as it looks?"

Getting cocky, are we? Didn't think he could handle it? Arackniss waited to catch his breath before replying.

"I don't know, let's try again."

...

Even panting and coughing, that spider wouldn't quit. Sir Pentious was impressed.

Impressed, but not merciful.

Once again, he placed a hand on his man's head. Once again, Arackniss took and held a deep breath.

Only this time, he was ready. As one cock buried itself in his mouth, two hands went to the other.

Sir Pentious made an involuntary gasp. He expected Arackniss to give up, to admit defeat (and maybe cuddle afterward, but that wasn't the point), not to go all in!

He held the spider's head for a a bit longer this time, as two hands worked his other flank.

He loosened his grip, and let Arackniss breathe. Surely, he'd had enough?

"I...wasn't...done." He spoke between panting breaths, still massaging the other shaft as he gazed defiantly back.

Sir Pentious broke into a grin. Well, if he wants it that badly...

Down again, even longer this time. He slowly moved Arackniss's head back and forth as two more hands brushed his skin.

Then, the pressure started to build. Slowly at first, then grew into a wave of pleasure that washed over his mind and body.

His muscles tensed, then relaxed. His eyes drifted shut, and he sank into the bed, almost limp. Arackniss, caught by surprise, swallowed on instinct as the other shaft made a mess of the sheets. He pulled free, panting.

"...Alright, Pent. I think I'm done."

Well. That made two of them.

...

Arackniss lay back, two hands behind his head and two around Sir Pentious, who was currently using his chest fluff as a pillow. The whiskey still swam through his blood, but the buzz was on its way out. It wouldn't be long before he was back to his normal, sober self.

No, not 'normal.' Nothing about the last few days was 'normal.' He'd been disowned by his father and slept with a man twice. Just his sober self, then. 

This was all new to him, and not just because he did it with a man. He'd been with hookers, and they were good enough, but a relationship? He was always a loner, no need for anyone but himself. He figured it made him strong, being self-reliant and all.

As the two watched the red sunset, Sir Pentious shifted a little and gently squeezed Arackniss's chest. He planted a kiss on Pent's forehead and squeezed back. Here he was, relying on this demon, one of two other people in Hell who cared if he lived or died.

And he had never felt stronger in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

  
In a nondescript, blocky building on the west side of Pentagram City, there was an office. It was large, but not grandiose. Classic weapons decorated the walls, though they were still new when the occupant moved in. A mahogany (or Hell's closest equivalent) desk sat in the center, stacked with ammunition, earnings reports, and a single bottle of good gin.

And Christ, he needed that gin.

Two days ago, Henroin had a son. Someone to inherit the family business if the exterminators got lucky.

Now, there was nobody.

He had a daughter, but she was... Well, she wasn't an option.

He took a pull from his cigar, weighing his choices. There was Vincent, the up-and-coming new arrival. But he'd only been in Hell for twenty years, though, barely enough time to learn the ropes. Then there was Sam 'The Bandit,' but he was a power-hungry sunuva bitch. If he were next in line, Henroin would be out on the streets just in time for next extermination.

He glanced at the bottle. God dammit, he should've been ready for this. Ever since Anthony...

He resisted the urge to take another swig. He was stronger than that.

There was a knock on the door.

"Intrude." It had better not have been some bullshit.

His daughter stepped in. Christ, he'd been dreading this conversation.

"Dad."

"Molly."

She just stood there, arms crossed, giving him 'the look.' That specific mix of disappointment, shame, and anger.

She got it from her mother.

"Something you wanted to discuss?"

He knew exactly why she was here.

"Yeah."

She was playing one of her mind games again, trying to get him to talk first. Trying to steer the conversation, like she always did.

It was God damn impressive, and it made him proud, but he didn't have the time for it.

"Well, spit it out."

"Arackniss."

She didn't need to say anything more. 

"...And?"

He knew everything she was thinking. She was going to tell him what he should've done, how he should've let her brother stay, how he's a bad person for protecting the Family's image.

Maybe she'd forgotten where they were.

"He didn't deserve that."

Yes, he did. He made his choice. He could suffer the consequences. His actions were degenerate and unmanly, and the Family had no place for such weakness. 

Henroin gave her his own 'look.' Not an angry one, just one that said 'no more bullshit. I made a choice, and you don't have to like it.'

She said nothing, and the two stared each other down for a while. Eventually, Henroin broke the silence.

"So. Is that all?"

'The look' changing to anger in an instant as Molly jabbed a finger at him.

"You backstabbing son of a bitch!"

He straightened. She may have been his daughter, but nobody insulted him, especially to his face.

"Arackniss served the Family for eighty-six fucking years, and you toss him out like garbage?! He lived for us! He *died* for us! And now you just abandon him, like it was all *nothing!*"

Tears welled up in her eyes. Henroin hated to see his daughter so upset, but she just wasn't seeing reason. She wanted everything to be perfect and happy all the time, and when he made sacrifices, he was the bad guy. 

"You're too soft."

"You're an *asshole!*"

His fingers curled reflexively, leaving scratches in the wooden desk. His voice raised, just barely.

"Molly, you know God damn well why I did what I did. Arackniss made his bed, and now he's laying in it."

Shit. He could've phrased that better.

Molly took a deep breath, and wiped away her tears.

"What if it were me?"

Henroin's voice came out as a low growl. 

"*...What?*" 

"What if I went and fucked a woman?"

"Don't fuck with me on this. You're not..."

"Well, what if I was? Would you throw me out?"

She stood, arms crossed and scowling at him. 

He glared back, gripping his desk with white, hairy knuckles.

He tried to say 'yes.' He knew he should.

One of his eyes twitched.

"*Would you?*"

He wanted to say 'yes,' but couldn't. What if it was true? What if she was? He couldn't do it.

Molly must have seen it on his face.

"What would *she--?*"

**"Don't."**

Molly turned to leave.

She glared at him a moment longer, before firmly closing the door behind her.

Henroin stared forward, looking at nothing. His claws left shallow gouges on the desk.

Finally, he sat down and buried his head in his hands. God dammit, Molly.

She was too much like her mother.

...Christ, he needed that gin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This was going to be chapter 7, but I still had work to do on chapter 6.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Sir Pentious woke up alone, coiled on his enormous mattress. Just like every other morning.

Only this time, his solitude came as something of a surprise.

"...Arackniss?"

He checked the clock. Five thirty-five. Either his man (*his man!*) was a very early riser, or something was off. He looked around the room and let out a sigh.

"If you don't come back, I'll have to get up."

His voice lowered to a whimper as he pulled the sheets a little tighter.

"...And I don't want to get up."

No answer. Ugh.

He slithered out of bed, shivering as he looked for his robe. He found it on the floor, right where he had left it the previous night. Arackniss's was nowhere to be seen.

He hadn't run off. Pentious was sure of that. He didn't seem like the 'run off in the morning' type.

...Did he?

No. Rediculous. He called Sir Pentious 'his man' (a thought that still made his heart skip a beat!). Besides, where would he have gone? To live with his adoring sister, who also accepted him for who he was?

He put that perfectly sensible thought out of mind and opened the door to the lounge. They'd had a lovely few days together. The best he'd had since he was alive, in fact.

...But still, only a couple of days. Not enough time to really get to know someone. 

No, stop that. Stop worrying.

"Arackniss? Are you in here?"

Not in the lounge. It was a large building, full of maze-like passageways and dangerous machinery. He really hoped Arackniss hadn't gone exploring.

Wherever he was, this would take a while.

...

Arackniss took a pull of his last cigar. He liked to keep one in his coat pocket, just in case he needed it.

He did.

The oversized nightrobe warmed him a little, but the balcony was still cold from the early morning air. Still, it was a good place to be alone.

It was still night, but the warm tones of sunrise had begun to paint the sky. Heaven shined like a pearl in the distance, a pure thing above the corrupt city.

He wondered if his mother was looking down on him. What would she think? What would she want him to do?

Would she be proud?

"*There* you are!"

He turned to see a shivering Sir Pentious, looking most relieved.

"Hey, Pent. Didn't think you'd be up."

Two arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Arackniss leaned into the hug. They stood there for a moment, enjoying each others' warmth, before Pentious spoke.

"I didn't think *you'd* be up."

Arackniss took another pull and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the chill air.

"Couldn't sleep."

"I didn't move too much, did I?" Pentious did have a tendency to shift in his sleep. He hoped it hadn't disturbed him.

"Nah. Just thinking too much."

Sir Pentious followed his gaze to the glowing planet in the distance.

"About someone?"

"...Yeah."

He knew that look. He wore it himself, sometimes.

He took Arackniss's hand, giving a reassuring squeeze. His man could tell him about anything.

"You think they can see us? Up there, I mean."

Pentious thought for a moment, unsure of what to say. He supposed it was possible, given a high-power telescope, but that didn't seem like the right answer.

He was never good at conversation, too many variables and inconsistent rules. Machines had no such problem. If you understood them, you could make them work.

Plus, people didn't come with an instruction manual.

"Maybe, Rakkie."

Arackniss looked up at him, amused.

"'Rakkie,' huh?"

Sir Pentious rested his chin on 'Rakkie's' head.

"'Pent,' hmm?"

Arackniss broke into a smile, and leaned into the serpent's chest.

"Fair enough, Pent, fair enough. It's just that only three people ever called me that."

"Should I not...?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. Whatever my man wants, after all."

He could almost hear Sir Pentious's heart melting as he kissed the serpent's neck. They stood in silence for a while, looking out over the city.

"Three people, you said?"

"Uh, well, you met Molly. Then there's Anthony, but we don't talk any more. And... then there's my mom."

He didn't need to continue. Pentious understood.

They stared at Heaven a while longer, until the silence got too much for Pent.

"I wonder if she's met my wife."

Arackniss looked up at the weary expression that Pent tried to hide with a smile.

"Damn. I'm, uh..."

Pentious raised a gentle hand.

"It was a hundred and forty years ago, Rakkie. I'm fine."

Arackniss didn't buy it. It was ninety for him, but it still hurt sometimes. 

Maybe he just hadn't reached the cutoff point.

"Think she's jealous?" He was joking. Mostly.

Sir Pentious laughed. It wasn't his practiced, villainous cackle, but something softer, warmer. 

Arackniss could listen to it for hours.

"Oh, no. I'm sure she's found someone of her own, by now."

A bit of sorrow crept through his demeanor. 'Fine' may have been an overstatement.

Arackniss didn't push the issue.

"Besides, I think she'd approve. Maybe she'd even want you for herself..." Sir Pentious gave him a sultry look, and put a hand on Arackniss's hip.

Mmf. If he kept doing that, they'd be out of their robes in a heartbeat. And in front of Heaven, no less!

"Ah, heh, Pent, not in front of my mom." 

Pentious didn't go any further, just wrapped his arms around Arackniss. Like a warm blanket in a cold night.

Another quiet moment above the mayhem that was Pentagram City. 

"I think she'd have liked you. Perhaps you could have been friends."

As he looked to the heavenly world above, Arackniss tried to imagine them all together, up there. All having tea with the goodie-goodies, as if he hadn't murdered eight people before he was nineteen.

It was tough to imagine, but worth it.

"Well? Would she have liked me?"

Pentious smiled at him eagerly, clearly expecting a 'yes.' He looked so sweet, almost innocent.

It was a shame to disappoint him.

"I dunno, Pent. Didn't get to know her too well."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Sir Pentious gave him a comforting squeeze, and rested a scaly cheek against his own.

"But, y'know, Pent, who wouldn't like you? You're a real sweetheart."

Pent tried to hide his blush.

"Oh, well, heh..."

...He wasn't remotely successful.

Another silent moment passed, punctuated only by the distant chaos of Pentagram City. Neon lights, trash fires, and lit windows drowned out the starlight. 

Sir Pentious remembered when the nights were dim, lit by oil lamps and burning vagabonds. 

Arackniss remembered when he first saw the city, all the sin he could ask for, like a neon playground of violence. 

How things had changed.

...

The sun cast its early rays on Pentagram City, same as ever.

A Mafioso sat at his desk, staring at an empty bottle and trying not to think about the men he once called sons. Where had he gone wrong?

A woman tried to call her struggling brother, but the phone kept ringing. He promised he'd call, but never did.

A washed-up journalist stared out her office window in the Pentagram Post, wondering why she had settled for a job writing trashy hit pieces. Not like anybody read them.

A porn star ignored his buzzing phone. He washed down two uppers with a shot of gin, got ready for take six, and tried to remember better days. He couldn't.

And in the middle of it all, two demons sat in silence on a balcony, watching the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Two uploads in one day! The other was kind of short, though.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Warmth.

A soft bed in a now familiar room.

A pair of arms around him. 

Arackniss slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes. He allowed himself a smile as he took it all in, trying to savor the moment as long as possible.

Sir Pentious, meanwhile, was gently snoring into his chest fluff. He'd found a new favorite pillow, it seemed.

It had barely been a week, but his old life already felt so distant. Sure, he missed it. He missed it a lot. But there was no going back, Henroin made that clear. 

Besides, he was happy at Pent's place. He didn't need the Family. He was fine.

Everything was fine.

Arackniss rubbed his temples in frustration. God dammit, why couldn't he make up his mind? Was he happy or not? His emotions had been bouncing around like a rubber pinball for the past week. One moment he was head over heels for Sir Pentious, then suddenly he wanted his old life back. But he liked Pent, and Pent liked him.

So why couldn't he just be happy?

He stared at the ceiling, as if the secret to happiness was written there for him to see. He knew that his father was a bad person, and there was no way he'd leave Sir Pentious. But he was born into the Family, and he'd spent his entire afterlife fighting for them. So why was he still being stupid? What the fuck did he want? 

He closed his eyes and imagined being back in the Mob, respected by the boys and his father. He imagined coming home to Sir Pentious, living together without being judged. He imagined seeing his brother again, and apologizing for everything he'd said and done. 

He wanted it all. Was it really so much to ask?

Guess so.

Arackniss had just about finished moving in, thanks to Molly bringing his belongings. Whatever hadn't been thrown out, anyway. She was even more pissed about that than he was. Arackniss wasn't too attached to his possessions, but it was nice having more than one set of clothes again. As comfortable as Pent's spare robe was, he couldn't exactly wear it in public.

Clothes. Shit! He didn't sleep in, did he?

Eleven thirty-one. Almost time to meet up with Molly. She'd insisted on taking him out to get new clothes, maybe getting coffee and catching up on things. He was never big on socializing, but he did owe her for the support and all. Besides, he needed to get out of the house for a while. 

He stretched whatever arms weren't beneath the sleeping Sir Pentious, and rested a hand on his shoulder. Pent let out a sleepy mumble into Arackniss's chest fluff. Maybe he could stay there, just a few more minutes...

He softly squeezed the slumbering serpent. 

No need to rush.

...

"Ooh, how about something in white?"

"How about black?"

"Aw, c'mon, Rakkie! You gotta mix it up sometimes!"

"What? Black's my color."

Molly crossed her arms and gave him a look that said 'come on, now. Give something new a try!'

Arackniss tried to give her a look that said 'hey, I'm my own man and I can exclusively wear black suits if I want.'

He didn't know if it worked. It was a lot to say with just a look, after all.

Crowds, cash registers, and angry demands to see a manager roared in the background. The sounds of commerce. The Daemon's Closet was *the* clothing store for Hell's upper-middle class, as long as they didn't mind the ungodly markup.

He could see why his sister liked the place.

"Okaaay, how about yellow trim? You know, to match with somebody...?"

He couldn't help but crack a half-smile as she gave him a playful jab with her elbow. Sir Pentious and Arackniss, together in matching suits. It was an image, all right.

"Hmm. Tempting, but I need my own style. Know what I mean?"

He could tell by her knowing smile that she did. 

"We'll keep looking. Gotta be something for ya!"

Well, he wasn't quite sure about that.

"So, how are things with your guy?"

Oh, boy. What to say?

"Well, he's..."

Simply put, Sir Pentious was amazing. There was no way words could do him justice. 

He'd taken Arackniss in, given him the time and care he needed when he was at his lowest. He'd shown genuine kindness in *Hell,* of all places. He was odd, sure, but also passionate, caring, and could fuck like a champion. 

...Not that she needed to hear that last detail.

"He's great. Treats me good."

Molly, ever the talker, listened for more. She clearly wanted more info, more details, something more than 'treats me good.'

"...I like him."

Her knowing smile widened as she put a hand on his shoulder. He realized that he'd been smiling too, just a little.

"I like him too. You make a cute couple."

Arackniss wouldn't have called himself *cute,* but he appreciated it nonetheless.

The next few minutes were spent in a mostly one-sided conversation as Molly picked out various garments for him to try on. Eventually, something caught her eye.

"Holy shit, is that...? One minute, Rakkie, I'm gonna talk to someone. I'll be right back!"

She hefted a load of jackets, dress shirts, pants, and a hat or two into his arms before speeding off to converse with another demon. 

"Mimzy! Oh my Devil, I haven't seen you in forever!"

Arackniss didn't even have time to protest before she was out of sight. 

He shifted the clothes in his arms, trying to balance the pile. Half of them weren't even black. Well, might as well try--

"Holy shit. Arackniss?"

He spun to see a lanky, spider-like demon staring in shock. He was a member of the Family, a new arrival if he remembered right, but Arackniss had never learned his name.

They stared at each other for a moment, each unsure of what to say. Finally, the mafioso spoke.

"I, uh, thought the boss had you, y'know... *Ghhhgt*"

He ran a finger across his neck and stuck out his tongue as he made the gruesome sound effect. It really drove the point home.

"Oh, no, he just, uh..."

Arackniss tried to think of the right phrasing. Abandoned him? No, that made him sound needy.

"...Left me there."

"Oh. Well, uh, good. Not that you got kicked out, but that he didn't... You know."

The lanky spider offered a hand.

"Uh, I'm Vincent."

Arackniss hesitantly shook it.

"Vincent. New guy, right?"

"Ha, nah. I've been here for like, twenty-five years."

Arackniss smiled as he remembered when he was that age. Twenty-five years had once seemed like a long time to him, too.

"...So, uh, it's true that you..."

Oh, boy. Here it comes. 

"Yeah. It's true."

"...Fucked Sir Pentious..."

"Yes, Vincent. It is."

"...And that's why you got kicked out."

Oh, Hell. This was going to be a long conversation.

"*Yes.*"

"...Huh."

Vincent just stood there slack jawed, as if he didn't know what to make of it all. 

"Uh, that's cool, I guess. Like, I really can't judge. I was coked out of my mind for the '90s, so I probably did some stuff with dudes."

Arackniss tried very hard not to imagine, but Vincent wasn't done sharing.

"...I mean, ass is ass, you know what I'm saying? Haha! Uh, don't tell my wife I said that."

Well, that was an image. Arackniss desperately tried to steer the conversation away from Vincent's sex life.

"So, how's the Family?"

Vincent paused for a moment, his face turning somber.

"Look, some of the boys agree with the boss, I won't lie. But most of us want you back."

He looked Arackniss in the eyes. 

"You came down here before the boss. You carved us a piece of the city before anyone else. Hell, you made the Family what it is! You're a fuckin' legend, man!"

One of the changing room doors opened up, and a short, bee-like woman scurried out in an overstuffed jacket.

"Okay, Vinnie, I snagged three pairs of designer jeans and a leather jacket. Let's roll."

She stopped abruptly, eyes darting between the two spiders.

"Who's this? He's not security, is he?"

"No, uh, just someone from work."

Vincent turned back to Arackniss and tried to jam all six hands into his two pockets.

"Hey, it's good to see you again. But, uh, if Boss asks, you didn't see me. I'm probably not supposed to be talking to you, so..."

With four hands, he made the single most awkward set of finger guns Arackniss had ever seen. 

"...Later, dude."

And then he and his wife left.

It took a moment for Arackniss to realize that he was just standing there. Totally in shock, staring into space. He didn't even notice Molly returning.

"Hey, Rakkie. You alright?"

He couldn't believe it.

"...Legend?"

"What?"

They wanted him back.


	9. Chapter 9

  
Arackniss was never one for conversation, Molly had learned that years ago.

But he was usually at least... there.

"So, any plans for the weekend?"

"I dunno."

A long silence.

"How's the coffee? Black enough for ya?"

"It's fine."

He hadn't touched it.

Arackniss stared out the small coffee shop's window, looking at nothing in particular. His posture was stiff, his fingers gripped the table anxously, and all of his replies had been two words, maximum.

"Hey, Rakkie..."

She put a hand over his and spoke gently.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hm? Fine."

She sighed into her coffee. There was no getting through to him, not when he was like this.

This was supposed to be a nice day out. She wanted to catch up with her brother (the one who answered her texts, anyway), but his mind was off somewhere else. Because nothing could be easy for anyone, it seemed.

No, she wasn't going to blame him. He was just going through a lot, and needed her support.

Which he'd be *getting,* if he'd just *talk to her.*

"Hey, Molly."

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Do you think they'd let me back?"

Oh, no. She tried hard not to bury her face in her hands, or groan in frustration, or tell him to please, *please* accept that they wouldn't let him back.

*Please.*

"...See, I was talking to one of the boys, and he said that most of them wanted me back. So, I was wondering if they could convince dad to let me back in."

"Rakkie..."

His talking slowly got faster. Some of the other patrons started looking their way.

"Because, you know, I came here first, and I know that doesn't give me seniority or anything, but maybe it's something he could, you know, consider, and, and I *did* fight to get a foothold in Hell, for the Family, so it's not like I'm a regular mook, no offense to the other soldiers..."

The words just kept pouring out, each one more manic and desperate than the last. Molly couldn't stop him now. All of his feelings were gushing out like blood from a severed artery, spilling all over for everyone to see. 

"...And I'm, I'm still loyal, you know? I'm not fucked up on coke, and, and yeah, I'm with Pent, but I'm not turning tricks! I'm not a whore, right? I'm not taking donkey dicks on camera, or anything!"

No. It didn't matter what he was going through, he had no right to talk about their brother that way. Molly's tone took on an edge.

"Arackniss, don't--"

"I'm still ME, Molly! I'm still Arackniss! I'm not Angel! He knows that, right? Dad knows that!" 

He was shaking. Tears welled up in his eyes. He gripped the table with white knuckles, as if it was his only lifeline.

"He has to let me back, Molly! It's the only thing that makes sense!"

The tears were spilling over, and the shaking was getting worse. More people were staring, snickering and murmuring to each other. Christ, she could tolerate people making fun of her, but her brothers? No fucking way.

She put a soft hand on his shoulder and spoke as gently as she could.

"He... he didn't do it because it made sense. He was wrong, and he won't see reason. Ever." 

He tried to say something. The words wouldn't come out.

"...I'm sorry, Rakkie."

He looked to her with eight pleading eyes, full of desperation and loss.

"But I'm still his son. Aren't I?"

Molly pulled him into a tight hug and tried not to cry. Devil, why did their father have to do this? Why couldn't he have just--?

"God, what a faggot."

A sleazy-looking demon in a grey hoodie snickered at the sight of the two crying siblings.

Arackniss went tense, still, and silent.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck no.

Seconds later, Arackniss was straddling the demon's chest. Two hands kept his wrists pinned to the floor, two gripped his neck with white knuckles, one was holding his head, and the last was striking blow after furious blow on the terrified demon's face. Blood pooled on the hardwood floor as people laughed and held up their phones, recording the spectacle for all to see. 

"ARACKNISS! STOP!!"

She grabbed his arm and he froze, blood dripping from his trembling knuckles.

He tried not to shake as he slowly stood up, his expression almost blank.

"...Rakkie..."

He stood there, the whole shop staring at him, waiting for his next move. 

Finally, he spoke.

"Thank you for the coffee, Molly."

He walked to the door as Molly stood in shock.

He opened it and paused.

"And... I'm sorry. For everything."

And then he left.

...

Arackniss, once the son of Henroin, slowly walked through the city, trying not to show emotion.

He walked through the west side, home of the Family's headquarters, a blocky, nondescript building. He didn't visit.

He walked through the Lust district, where his brother's pimp did business. Women and men of the night tried to tempt him, bragging about their skills, but he didn't give a shit. 

He walked through Cheri Bomb's territory, where her gangsters recognized him as a friend of their enemy. They catcalled him, threatened him, but didn't dare come close. Smart move.

He walked through Pent's territory. Some people looked at him, none seemed to care. Not their business, anyway.

Finally, he reached the door of the Serpent's Lair. The egg-boys greeted him and happily called for their master.

"Arackniss, hello! How was...?"

He pulled Sir Pentious into a six-armed hug as the tears streamed down his face. 

He sobbed deeply into his lover's chest as two scaly arms held him tight.

He could hardly get a word out.

All he could say was that he loved him.


	10. Chapter 10

  
[rakkie?]

[r u ok?]

[pls answer!]

[im worried]

[were r u?]

  
{Im at Pents place.}

  
[THANK GOD. what happend?]

[u ok? pls answr]

  
{Im fine}

  
[i loke you rakkie]

[*love]

[stupid keypad]

  
{hey molly?}

{thx for everything youve done for me}

{i dont know whereid be without u}

  
[ :,) ]

[ur gona make me cry, rakkie]

  
{i love u too molly}

...

A few hours later, Arackniss was feeling better. A bit, anyway.

A warm blanket was draped over his shoulders and a hot cup of tea sat on the end-side table next to him.

And, of course, his doting serpent wouldn't stop fussing over him.

"Is the tea hot enough? Would you prefer chamomile? I have Earl Grey, as well..."

Once again, nothing made sense. The mob wanted him back, even if his fath- Henroin didn't. But his fa- *Henroin,* God dammit, wouldn't change his mind on this. He would die on that hill if he had to, especially if he knew how Arackniss loved Pent...

*Loved.* He was never one to use that word lightly. He'd only known Sir Pentious for a week, so could he really call this 'love?' Was it too early? 

In all one-hundred and five years of his existence, he had never felt like this. He just wished there were a guide of some kind, some book with all the answers, but no.

Nothing could be easy for him, could it?

"...And also chai, of course, and this herbal tea with mint and lemongrass..."

"It's okay, Pent. I'm still waiting for this one to cool off, anyway."

Sir Pentious slithered up on the couch and held him tight, placing a kiss on his forehead as he did so. Arackniss leaned into him and wrapped the blanket around them both. Pent's head came to rest on his shoulder. They closed their eyes and just enjoyed each others' company.

They sat there for a while in silence. It was that special kind of silence, the kind that carries as much meaning as an entire conversation.

The kind that one only broke for a very good reason.

"...Hey, Pent?"

"Mhm?"

Sir Pentious looked up with sleepy eyes, and Arackniss's heart instantly melted. God, how could one man be that cute?

"About... what I said earlier."

He hadn't spoken much since arriving, but he'd already said a lot more than he'd planned to. What if he'd said it too early? What if he'd fucked it all up, scared Pent away, sounded too clingy?

Sir Pentious sighed, and spent a little too long thinking of a reply. 

Arackniss's heart sank. He'd said too much, hadn't he?

"Arackniss, you're..."

He paused and started again.

"When I first saw you in the Mob, I didn't think much of you. You were cute, yes, but I couldn't imagine we'd end up like this."

Cute? Arackniss wasn't cute, he was manly and dangerous. But he didn't raise that point.

"But after we shared that night, you somehow convinced me to do the right thing. It was the first time in over a century I'd even considered it."

He leaned in and put a hand on Arackniss's cheek. They stared into each others' crimson eyes.

"Words don't do you justice, Arackniss. You're tough, you're cultured, and you're my man."

Pent's words were sweet, but he could tell where they were leading.

They were leading to a 'no.' And Arackniss wasn't ready for that.

"And I think we're on the same path. Though you're... a little bit further than I am."

Was that a 'no?' It didn't sound like one, but he couldn't be sure.

"But, someday, I would love to catch up to you."

Sir Pentious took his hand and gave him a tender kiss on the lips.

Huh. Not a 'yes,' but not a 'no.' A 'someday.'

Rakkie could live with that.

"I won't rush you, Pent. You're worth waiting for."

Then that special silence resumed.

This time, it lasted long into the night.

...

The sun cast its evening rays on on Pentagram City, same as ever.

A woman sent her brother yet another text, and her heart sank at his barely-coherent reply. He'd been hitting the pills harder than usual, it seemed.

A lanky spider thought about an earlier chance encounter as he tried on a new leather jacket. He tried to think of a way to ask his boss a question, but none came to mind.

A battered and bleeding demon headed to the bar as the people he called friends laughed at his pain. Why'd he have to open his stupid mouth, just like he always did?

A warlord saw a schism forming in the Mob, and began planning her next move. They'd finally pay for how they had treated her friend.

And in the middle of it all, two demons sat on a leather sofa and fell asleep on each others' shoulders.


	11. Chapter 11

  
Arackniss woke up to the sound of a sizzling pan and the smell of breakfast. 

*Burning* breakfast. Sir Pentious must have been trying to teach the Egg-boys to cook again.

He stretched out on the couch, still under the blanket where he'd fallen asleep, and tried not to think about the previous day. 

Yesterday's outburst was embarrassing, to say the least. He could just imagine all the trashy articles about him, how Pent's boyfriend had gone crazy in a coffee shop. Hopefully, they'd at least leave Molly alone.

He pulled the blanket tighter with a sigh. Who was he kidding, this was Hell. Nobody was safe.

"*No,* you obtuse ovoids! You don't *fry* caviar! It is to be served chilled! *Chilled!*"

Sir Pentious's frustration carried from the kitchen, mixed in with the confused warbling of his egg-like servants.

"Uh, Pent, you... want some help?"

Arackniss was no cook, but he could figure it out. Couldn't be that hard, could it?

"No, I have the situ- NUMBER THIRTY-TWO, PUT THAT CLEAVER DOWN!- situation under control! Just a few minutes, darling!"

A thrill ran through him. 'Darling.' Maybe it wasn't much, but coming from those lips? Mmf, he could get used to that. 

He lay back and listened to the clattering, sizzling, and exasperated shouting coming from the kitchen. What *were* those egg-looking buffoons, anyway? Pent called them homunk-- humunc-- *something,* but Arackniss had no idea what it meant. 

His curiosity was interrupted by Pent's voice, timidly calling out from the kitchen.

"Um, Rakkie, remember when I said I didn't need help? I have since changed my mind."

"Coming! I mean, uh, on my way." Bad Arackniss, no innuendos!

The kitchen was a clusterfuck, to put it lightly. Egg-boys ran around haphazardly in panic, smoke filled the air, and in the middle of it all, Sir Pentious stared back at him in thinly veiled panic over a blazing frying pan. But one thing caught Arackniss's attention more than anything else.

"You... tied your hair back."

He had indeed. A few strands broke free, dancing with his every move, framing his head like a hazy, black halo. Surprise, then an awkward little smile decorated his face, moving from his eyes, to his lips, to his pinkening cheeks. 

"You like it?"

Sir Pentious had always been attractive in a way Arackniss couldn't quite explain. Even before they woke up in his bed, Arackniss would sometimes catch himself staring at the guy, feeling something he couldn't quite understand. He'd always chalked it up to Pent looking a bit ladylike, with the hair and all. Pent just... confused some part of his mind, that was all.

But at that moment, it was so much more. The way his hair flowed behind him, his soft face, that slender form...

God damn, he was *beautiful.*

"...Yeah. I do."

They stared at each other for a bit longer, neither willing to end the moment. Arackniss felt his face growing just a little warmer in a blush. It wasn't his body's only reaction, either. Was it just him, or was it getting a little hot in here...?

He looked at the frying pan, and realized it wasn't just him.

"Uh, Pent, is the pan...?"

Sir Pentious glanced down at the burning pan. His eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, dear."

The next few minutes saw two panicking demons try to put out a grease fire, and Arackniss learning three things the hard way. First, water won't put out a grease fire. Second, water makes a grease fire *worse.* Third, they weren't having omelettes for breakfast after all.

After the smoke cleared up, a remorseful Arackniss brushed back his lightly singed hair.

"Sorry, Pent."

Sir Pentious, far from amused, still held a lid on the pan as Rakkie continued.

"...I can make us some toast, if you want."

Pent crossed his arms and looked at his poor, singed spider. He tried to be mad, but...

He rubbed his temples with a sigh.

"I'll get the jam."

...

After breakfast, Pent went off to work in his shop, as usual. It was only fair that Arackniss would clean up the kitchen, seeing as he'd, you know, dumped water on a grease fire. It seemed decades spent cleaning up crime scenes would come in handy once again.

As he worked, his mind returned to what he'd said to Sir Pentious the previous day. That... was new. He wasn't the 'lovey-feelsy' type, just ask anyone he knew. They'd all say that he was a mean bastard with a chip on his shoulder, and they'd be right.

Still, it was a... tough moment for him. Maybe he said some things he...

No. He meant it. He meant every one of those three fuckin' words.

Arackniss leaned on the counter, the realization finally sinking in.

He'd fallen in love. In hell.

...Damned fool.

...

{hey molly}

  
[hey rakkie!]

  
{can i ask u smthng?}

  
[of course :) ]

  
{youve been with guys right?}

  
[...yeah, why?]

  
{how do i do it?}

  
[ ._. ]

[i think ur brother would know more abt that than me]

  
{ ? }

{NO}

{no no no}

{i mean}

{how do i}

{you know}

{do relationships?}

  
[wym?]

  
{yesterday i told pent that i loved him} 

{good idea or no?}

  
[omg! rakkie!!]

[wht did he say? does he feel the same?]

[PLS SAY YES!!!]

  
{he says maybe, but not yet}

{but someday}

  
[sounds like he needs time to]

[u know]

[process it all]

[i hope he says yes!!]

[im proud of u :) ]

  
{thanks molly}

{it means a lot}

  
[of course rakkie :) ]

  
{something else}

{do yuo still talk to anthony?}

  
[yeah, y?]

  
{i want to meet him again}

{tell him im sorry}

{for evrything}

  
[i can ask, but i know hes busy]

[ur doing the rite thing tlking to him :) ]

  
{i hope so}

...

[Hey angel!]

  
(sup mol)

(i got a shoot in 15)

(migt hav 2 tlk l8r)

  
[ok ths is quick]

[rakkie says he wants 2 visit]

[reconnect n stuff]

[...angel u there?]

  
(yea)

(i heard about him + pentious)

(thats cool)

(i guess)

  
[hes not who he was back then]

[trying to change & be better]

[but its up 2 u if u want 2 see him]

[or i can tell him ur busy]

  
(8:30 2moro mrning)

(i got time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone! Next chapter shouldn't take quite so long.


	12. Chapter 12

  
The Lust district, eight twenty in the morning.

The morning smog covered Pentagram City like a smothering blanket, drowning the distant skyscrapers and shanty towns alike in pale gray. The cacophony of Hell still echoed from every alley, every car horn and gunshot ringing as loud as ever. 

Lovely weather for a reunion.

In the hazy sea of neon signs sat a small, broken-down diner. Graffiti decorated its grimy walls and boarded windows, dealers sold their products in plain view out front, and the soot from countless arsonists stained its rough brickwork. Overall, nothing unusual for Hell. 

Arackniss's cab slowed to a halt as he put on a 'hoodie,' some absurd fashion trend that surely wouldn't last the next decade. It wasn't for warmth, and it *certainly* wasn't for style. He just needed to go incognito, let the tabloids keep his name off their pages for a while. He wasn't looking to make another scene.

He was just here to do something he should've done a long time ago.

Arackniss approached the door, placed his hand on the worn finish, and paused.

He could still back out, say he got stuck in traff--

No. He had to do this.

He pushed the emotion from his face as he opened the door.

The inside was better than the exterior, but not by much. The cracked tile floors, the faded '50s decor, and the peeling wallpaper all added to the run-down atmosphere. He got the right place, didn't he? Anthony didn't seem like the 'run down diner' type. Then again, Arackniss barely knew his brother.

He scanned the booths and tables looking for the face he'd tried to ignore for years.

And there he was, sitting at a table, looking right at him.

Christ, he looked like Molly. But he was taller, maybe as tall as Henroin. He wore pink and white, a smoldering cigarette hung from his mouth, and too much perfume filled the air around him. 

Arackniss walked over and sat across from him, trying to keep his breaths calm and slow.

Each waited for the other to speak. Anthony coldly looked him over, as if sizing him up. There wasn't going to be a fight, was there?

Finally, Anthony broke the silence.

"So. Finally ditched the suit, huh?"

What? Arackniss looked down at his sweater. 

"It's... temporary."

Anthony took a slow drag from his cigarette.

"Don't wanna be seen with me?"

His disapproving eyes burrowed into Arackniss's soul, letting a cold wind blow right through.

"No, no. I just don't wanna be seen at all, you know?"

Anthony nodded, looking off into the distance. Nobody spoke for a moment. Christ, this was awkward. What would Arackniss even say, 'how ya been?' 'Sorry about letting Henroin ditch you?' 'What's the best way to work a dick?'

Luckily, Anthony was better at conversation.

"I heard about you and Penny boy. Izzat why you're here?"

Tough question.

"No. Well, yeah. Sorta. See, I'm--"

"A fag."

Arackniss had been shit-talked before. Sometimes by strangers, sometimes enemies, usually his superiors in the Family who knew he couldn't do anything about it. He'd long since grown numb to the abuse.

This time, it somehow stung worse.

"What? Not your favorite word no more?" His brother's face was an impenetrable mask, showing nothing but measured disdain. He must have picked that up from Henroin.

He sighed. Fuck, this was hard to say.

"Anthony... I'm sorry. I was a real piece of shit to you, and... I guess I paid the price."

Anthony kept his composure, even as his knuckles just barely tightened on the arm of his chair.

"Oh, you did, huh? Yeah, I can see that. Livin' in your sugar daddy's mansion, not a care in the world, ooh, you're really payin' for lettin' me rot on the fuckin' streets."

"He's not my--"

"Yeah, he fuckin' is. Not even two weeks, an' you're livin' in his house. Sorry, that ain't how it works."

"I--"

Anthony's facade began to slip, and anger began to leak through the sarcasm.

"Not that you wanna hear it! Oh, no, maybe for those other losers, but for you it's the 'real thing!' He probably said he loved you, too, didn't he?"

That cut deep.

He tried to keep it off his face.

"But hey, it ain't a bad deal. Just work that prick, an' you can pretend like he does! By the way, I heard rumors that he's got a little extra down there. That true, Rakkie?"

This was getting out of hand. Arackniss tried to steer the conversation back to safety.

"Look, Anthony, I'm sorry. For every--"

He wasn't listening. Each word was faster, louder, angrier than the last.

"You think 'sorry' fixes anything?! I was *fourteen,* asshole! You let that shitbag toss me out, not giving a fuck if I lived or died, and it's all fuckin' better now, 'cause you're 'paying the price' with your fuck buddy?!"

He jabbed a finger at Arackniss.

"You didn't give a shit about me for eighty fuckin' years, and now you wanna be my friend now that you got nothin?' Now that I'm on top of the fuckin' world, and you're chokin' on dick for rent?"

Anthony grabbed him by the shirt collar and leaned down into his face.

His breath smelled like gin.

Arackniss froze, his eyes bulging and body locking up as his brother spoke in a growl.

"You got real bad timing, lil' Rakkie."

Anthony stared him down for a second longer before releasing him.

"Now go home. I ain't havin' your shit."

It took Arackniss a moment to move.

He almost tried to apologize again, but couldn't find his tongue.

So he left.

...

[Angel.]

[Please, please don't do this.]

  
(i love u molly, but u werent the one on the streets)

(fuck him + henroin)

  
[Hes trying to be a better person.]

[I know what he was like before, but hes trying]

  
(he can cry 2 his bf)

(not 2 me)

(fuck him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart from Naja! Go check it out!  
> https://twitter.com/nadairead/status/1264935147570434051?s=19  
> (Again, thank you so much!)


	13. Chapter 13

  
Ten thirty in the morning, and it was already one of those days.

Arackniss hunched over a cup of coffee, waiting for it to cool. Anthony's words still rang in his head.

'He probably said he loved you, too, didn't he?'

Half a bottle of whiskey sat on an end table next to him. He tried not to look at it, reach for it, and put another shot in his coffee.

Christ, was it tough.

He didn't want to keep drinking, but the alternative was to be alone with his thoughts. No way in Hell was he doing that. 

He could pester Pent in his workshop, but he didn't want to get in the way. He could text Molly, but she might bring up Anthony. He'd read all the news he cared to, and most of it was trash anyway.

He looked back at the bottle. 'Drink me,' it seemed to whisper. 'It's five o'clock somewhere, you know.'

Arackniss buried his face in his palms. He'd learned to swallow fear, bury sorrow, and push down anger. Boredom should have been easy, shouldn't it?

But it wasn't just that. Sitting here, doing nothing, it made him feel... useless. Like a freeloader, leeching off his man and contributing nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

'...Chokin' on dick for rent...'

No. He swallowed that thought with the rest of his coffee. He was here because Pent loved him. Well, maybe not yet, but he would. Someday.

'...Just work that prick, an' you can pretend like he does!'

Ugh.

The bottle glistened in the morning sun. He imagined the pleasant buzz, the warmth spreading through his core...

God damn, was it inviting.

...

Sir Pentious's signature airship, the Medusa, sat in the hangar of the Serpent's Lair. Its polished brass coating shone in the sun like unholy fire, ready to incinerate his enemies and everything they held dear. It was the culmination of decades of funding, hard work, and engineering genius that only he could have achieved.

Simply put, it was Pent's baby.

He coiled beneath a subsection of hull, inspecting the numerous welds for leakage. The Medusa had been used and abused for years, survived countless battles, and taken hits that could have leveled buildings. A bit of wear and tear was to be expected. Maintenance was important, after all, if not as exciting as invention or upgrading.

"Damn. That's a big blimp."

Pentious heard Arackniss's voice and eagerly slithered out from under the colossal machine.

"*Rigid airship,* Rakkie. A blimp has no rigid internal structure, and keeps its shape via pressurized lifting gas. The Medusa, however, has a steel framework within its envelope."

"Huh, I didn't kn-"

"Also, this is not a Zeppelin, as many mistakenly claim, as it was not manufactured by the Zeppelin Airship Construction Company. Although, I do admit, some of their designs have inspired my own..."

Pentious stopped himself while he still could.

"...But, um, you aren't here for a monologue, are you?"

"Actually, yeah. You know, if you got the time."

Pent hesitated. Engineering, especially infernal technology, was one of his favorite topics. Sir Pentious could discuss it at length, rambling for hours about aetherial energy, arcane reactors, and Hell's other scientific phenomena, but most others found them... less interesting. It didn't stop him from slipping into a tangent when he got excited, but he generally tried to avoid such an embarrassing faux pas.

"Certainly! But I didn't think you were interested."

"I'm just, you know, curious." 

Something wasn't right. Maybe it was the way he held himself, or the look in his eyes, or the feigned indifference in his voice. Arackniss, sensing his concern, began to step back.

"But it's fine if you're too busy. I can come back later."

"Rakkie, are you...?"

"Nah, don't worry about me."

His words didn't ease Sir Pentious's worry. He put a gentle hand on the spider's shoulder and felt him tense up.

Arackniss froze for a moment, before pulling away, trying to keep his face blank. Whatever he was hiding, it was getting close to the surface.

"I'll be fine, okay? Promise."

Pent tried to think of what to say. 

"Is it about Anthony?"

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it. It's fine."

Pentious saw the glisten in Arackniss's eyes, and knew it wasn't. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? More importantly, what could Pent say to make things better?

Maybe he didn't need to say anything.

He softly embraced Arackniss, and they held each other for a while. Neither knew exactly how long, and neither really cared.

He hoped it was enough.

...

Stupid Arackniss, stupid. 

What had he even planned to say? 'Hey Pent, my brother says you don't love me. Mind saying you do, just to massage my ego?' Stupid.

He held onto Pent for a while longer, until he could pretend that he was all better. 

Until he didn't have to bother his man any more.

"Do you... want to talk?"

Arackniss relaxed his grip, and backed off with a sigh. 

"Pent, it's nothing. I'm just being stupid."

Sir Pentious gave him a stern look and pulled him close.

"Don't you say that about my man. He's one of the most clever demons I know."

Arackniss had to smile at that.

"Smarter than you?"

"*Nobody's* smarter than me."

"Heh. Can't argue with that."

There was a moment of quiet. Not a peaceful sort of quiet, but a restless one, full of things that needed saying, words that needed to escape.

"Pent..."

Arackniss took a breath and started again.

"Look, I know what you said about the path, and all that. I just..."

He tried to find the words in his brain, but they were tangled up with other things, things he didn't mean to say. Pent's concern just made it worse. 

He took a deep, slow breath, and spit it out.

"How do you feel about me?"

Sir Pentious looked back at him, confused.

"I mean... ah, fuck it. I don't know what I mean. I'm just be- just rambling."

Pent answered him with a kiss. A slow, reassuring one, accompanied by a tender embrace that made him feel both weak, and somehow stronger than ever.

He pulled away and their eyes met, crimson against crimson.

"Arackniss, everything I told you that night was, and still is, true. You are still my favorite person in Hell, and don't you ever forget that."

They hugged it out again, and Arackniss left. 

He returned to the lounge, and flopped down onto the sofa with a sigh. Pent still had work to do, after all, and the last thing he needed was more of Arackniss's insecurity.

So much time, so little to do. At least his mind was a little clearer.

'...My favorite person in Hell...'

Arackniss's eyes flicked out the window, to Heaven shining in the distance. 

He poured a shot into his mug and downed it. Fuck it, he could settle for second place. 

Never stopped him before.


	14. Chapter 14

  
Sir Pentious awoke in a state of bliss.

His face lay half-buried in Arackniss's fluffy chest, his new favorite pillow. Two arms held him loosely while another stroked his hair, occasionally stopping to brush it from his face. He felt rough, scarred knuckles trace gentle circles on his cheek as a smile began to spread on his lips.

"Morning, beautiful."

That coarse, yet somehow soft whisper sent shivers down his spine. He opened his eyes to see Arackniss looking back, a small, rare smile on his lips. Sir Pentious tried to say something, but his mind was still hazy from sleep. Instead, he gave a groggy yawn and raised a hand to that soft fluff, feeling it run through his fingers like silk. 

Arackniss squeezed him tight, and placed a gentle kiss on his head. Pent's heart fluttered. Seeing his man this affectionate, this happy, It made him go soft.

Well, not *totally* soft.

He reflexively traced his hand down from Arackniss's chest, across the scars on his abdomen, all the way to...

Arackniss relaxed his grip with a shudder. A little sensitive this morning, hm? 

Pentious ran a teasing finger from base to tip, softly smothering his spider's neck with kisses. He felt his own loins hardening in turn, eagerly anticipating Arackniss's touch. He could wait. For now, all attention was on his little spider.

As he stroked the twitching manhood, Arackniss placed a hand on his head and gently, but firmly, began to push downward. Making demands, were we? Lucky he was in such a good mood.

Pentious obliged, sinking all the way down to his lover's hips and ever-so-slightly flicking his tongue against the tip. With gentle fingers, he caressed the delicate underside. He placed his lips against the crown as Arackniss stroked his hair, giving a gentle moan as he...

The doorbell rang.

Both of them groaned.

"God *dammit.*"

"Ah, sunuva bitch."

Sir Pentious turned to look at the clock. Not even eight. Sir Pentious sighed as he slid out of bed and threw on a robe.

"Pent, it's probably just some jackhole handing out pamphlets."

"Nobody bothers me without a *damned* good reason."

"What, never gotten a salesman?"

Pentious turned back, murder in his eyes.

"*Once.*"

He slithered to the front door, taking his time to pull his robe tight. Finally, the scowling serpent opened the door, thinking of all the creative ways to murder an intruder. 

A spidery demon in a leather jacket stared back at him.

"Hi! I'm Vincent."

He stuck out a hand. Pentious didn't take it.

"Uh, is Arackniss here?"

"...Do you have business with him?"

"Yep."

He said nothing else, and gave a cheerful smile. Pentious didn't return it.

"Are you in Henroin's gang?"

"What, just because I'm a spider, you think I'm in the Family?"

Sir Pentious raised an eyebrow.

"Well okay, yeah. I am. Still, though."

Pentious crossed his arms and waited for him to explain exactly what he was doing at the Serpent's Lair.

"...Uh, I'm not here to kill you. In case you were wondering."

He hadn't been.

"One moment, 'Vincent.'"

He shut the door on Vincent, and rubbed his temples.

"Rakkie? Do you know a spider named Vincent? He says he has business with you."

There was a thump from the bedroom, then quick footsteps as a robed Arackniss trotted into view.

"You said Vincent? Is he...?"

Arackniss swung the door open to see a still-smiling Vincent.

"Hey, man! Been a while. Mind if I step in?"

He walked in without waiting for a response.

"Nice place! Hey, you got any beer?"

As he strode in and looked around, Pentious gave Arackniss a confused, annoyed glance. Arackniss replied with an equally confused shrug and spoke up.

"Hey, uh, Vincent. You have some kinda business?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm here to-- holy shit, you got a lounge! Nice!"

Vincent wasted no time flopping down on a leather sofa and making himself comfortable. Nobody said anything for an uncomfortable amount of time. Just as Arackniss was about to ask him just what the fuck he wanted, Vincent spoke.

"Wanna start a gang?"

Arackniss blinked.

"...What?"

"I said 'wanna start a gang?'"

"Yeah, I heard you, but... *what?*"

"Look, things have been going... a bit downhill in the Family. And since Henroin's not letting you back..."

Vincent held up his hands in a 'why not' gesture. Intrigued, Arackniss sat down as Pentious kept a suspicious eye on the newcomer.

"Alright, let's say I'm interested. Who's gonna be in it?"

"Well, you and me. And I guess Sir Pentious? Hey, you want in, man?"

He turned to Sir Pentious, who looked dispassionately back at him.

"We'll see."

"A'ight, cool. See, I wanted to check with you before asking anyone else, so I dunno who all's gonna join."

Arackniss leaned back, contemplating the situation. Three demons against the world, huh? Pent did well enough with just the egg-boys and his own brains, so why not? 

Arackniss looked at Pent. Pent looked at him. They both looked at Vincent, as he happily reclined on the sofa. Pentious spoke up.

"We'll discuss it."

"Oh, yeah, take your time."

The two waited for Vincent to get up and leave them to discuss. He didn't.

"...Alone."

"No problem, I'll stay here."

He closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the couch, oblivious. Arackniss interrupted his rest.

"That means you gotta go, Vincent."

"Oh, shit. Sorry."

An embarrassed Vincent scampered out the door, leaving the two in near silence. 

Eventually, Sir Pentious broke it.

"Your own gang, hm?"

Arackniss tried to keep a straight face, but Pent saw the gleam in his eyes. 

"*Our* own gang, Pent."

He unfastened his robe with one hand, and reached to Sir Pentious with the other. 

They tried to make it to the bedroom, but settled for the couch.


	15. Chapter 15

  
Want is a powerful thing. 

It was the driving force behind Arackniss's life and afterlife. The want for power, fame, money, his father's approval.

The want for *more.*

Now he felt it again, stronger than ever. It was an all-consuming desire that drowned out his worries, his insecurities, his inhibitions.

God damn, did he want Sir Pentious.

"Ehm, Arackniss? Shouldn't we get to the bedroom first...?"

Arackniss silenced him with a deep, passionate kiss. There would be plenty of time for talking later. He pushed Pent onto the sofa, straddling his tail as the robes came off. Smooth, warm scales brushed against his bare body as he made his way down, ferociously kissing Pent's jaw, then his neck, then his chest...

Finally, he placed a deep, thirsting kiss right between Pent's twin shafts. He could almost taste the desire on them, the pure, unrelenting *want* matched only by his own.

"Ah... Arackniss..."

Goddamn right. Arackniss: famed, feared, notorious. He was nobody's underling, nobody's burden, not any more! 

"...Bellissimo..."

He hardly thought about what he was saying, it just slipped out. Even so, Pentious's cheeks began turning pink. That had an effect on him, did it? He tried lowering his voice, whispering between his ravenous kisses.

"Mio bello..."

It worked perfectly. Pent's blush deepened, and Arackniss made a mental note to speak Italian more often, *especially* in the bedroom. He directed his attention back where it belonged, placing his hands on each of Pent's cocks. He stroked, suckled, and kissed each one, giving them both the love they deserved. His slender serpent squirmed on the sofa, speechless from the spider's sensual stimulation.

As the pre began dripping from each one, Arackniss readied himself. Lips over the teeth, take a deep breath, and pick one, just like their first time. The first either of them could remember, at least. A delicate, scaly hand found its way to his head, playing with his hair and guiding him as he went all in. He went as deep as he could, burying Pent's length in his throat, almost to the hilt. He held for a second, eyes starting to water as he tried to suppress his gag reflex. 

It was hard not to cough as he pulled back, but he managed. He kissed the tip and tried to catch his breath, working Sir Pentious over with gentle hands. One stroked the shaft pressed against his lips, two caressed the other, and another massaged the stones. It must have been working, since Pentious punctuated the quiet with soft gasps and little moans of ecstasy. Could he even speak, or was the pleasure too much?

"Pentious..."

Nothing but a squeak from his beautiful little serpent. Arackniss suppressed a grin at Pent, squirming helplessly on his back. Poor thing must have been a little 'Pent' up, hm? It wouldn't take much more to finish him off, and he knew just the trick. He placed one more kiss on the crown, and looked up at Sir Pentious.

"...Ti amo."

Arackniss took a deep breath and went down again, sliding back and forth on one member as his hands stroked the other. He rubbed the tip against the roof of his mouth, tickled the underside with his tongue, and went as deep as he could between breaths. 

Pent's breath caught in his throat. His muscles stiffened and his tail twitched as he came with a small gasp, both on the couch and in Arackniss's mouth. 

It tasted like satisfaction.

Pentious lay there a moment, flushed and panting beneath his spider. He stared off into space for just a moment, pure bliss in his eyes as he tried to find his tongue.

"Ah... Damn..."

Arackniss allowed himself a grin as Pent's breathing slowed, even cuddling up next to the serpent. They sat on the couch, leaning against each other for a while longer.

"That was..."

He didn't need to finish the thought. Arackniss pecked him on the cheek, sensing that their 'intermission' was about to come to an end. 

Sir Pentious ran a hand down his torso, barely touching his flesh, before wrapping it around his shaft. With his other, he held Arackniss's cheek as he purred into the spider's ear.

"Now, let me take care of you..."

Pent's soft, warm fingers tempted him, caressed him in all the right ways, and promised a quick, pleasurable release.

But Arackniss had other plans. 

"Pentious, mio bello," he whispered back as he took Pentious by the waist.

He guided Pent onto his back, laying across the couch as Arackniss straddled his tail once more. His attention went downward, below the soft flanks, to a barely-noticeable slit at the base of his torso. 

"...I want to be inside you."

Pentious's face went pink, and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. 

"Well, I've never... um..."

Sir Pentious had always considered himself more of a 'top,' so to speak. He could seldom afford to be quite that... *vulnerable* to anyone else. Arackniss was different, though. Maybe he could...?

A nervous bead of sweat formed on his brow as a slightly smirking spider produced a small bottle. Personal lubricant. Oh, Devil, Pentious was really about to do this, wasn't he?

"Just... not too hard, alright?"

Sir Pentious braced himself, hoping he was ready for... What, exactly? What would this be like? Arackniss leaned down and kissed his forehead, soothing his worries, if only a little.

"Just tell me if I go too far, okay?"

And with that, Arackniss slowly inserted his length. Sir Pentious gasped involuntarily from the sensation. It was... a little painful, to be honest, but there was something else. Something about the was Arackniss held his waist, how delicately he moved, the knowledge of just how *close* he was, physically and emotionally...

"You holdin' up, Pent?"

"Mm..."

He put his hands on Arackniss's waist, not to guide him, but to feel his moving hips. Sir Pentious was reminded of a cycling piston, extending and retracting into its cylinder. Only this wasn't rough, rapid, and mechanical, but slow, smooth, and gentle. He closed his eyes, laid his head back on the armrest, and enjoyed the moment.

"Ah, sei bello... "

A smile found its way onto Sir Pentious's face. He had no idea what those words meant, but damn, did he love how they sounded. Arackniss's movements grew ever-so-slightly more vigorous, his breath quickening with each stroke. Pentious half-opened his eyes to see a look of euphoria on his man's face. It seemed he was almost ready to...

"Mio... bellissimo uomo..."

Arackniss's words were no longer for Sir Pentious. They were spoken by reflex, to nobody but the empty air. The thrusts slowed to a stop, and a curious warmth filled him as Arackniss's grip relaxed. Pentious could have sworn he even saw a cocky grin on his spider's face. Enjoying himself, hm? 

Well, that made two of them.

Arackniss stood up, stretched, and took a deep breath before looking back down. His face shifted from his typical inscrutable mask, to a slight smile, to a wide grin as he gave a chuckle of disbelief.

"Our own gang, Pent."

Before Sir Pentious could reply, he was met with a deep, wanting kiss on the lips. He was still a little sore, but it was all worth it. His man was happy.

And that's all he wanted.


	16. Chapter 16

  
"Our own gang..."

"Yes, dear. You've mentioned that."

He wasn't listening. Not that Sir Pentious could blame him.

"I'm a good shot, you're good with gadgets, it's a good start, but..."

Pentious wanted to sigh, pull Rakkie close, and tell him to just *go to sleep.* From the second their 'guest' brought it up that morning, he wouldn't stop obsessing over their future gang. Not even as they lay in bed at this ungodly (heh) hour. 

"...Besides, those egg-lookin' boys you got? They're a real wild card..."

He put an arm around Arackniss's shoulder, and softly pulled the little spider into a light embrace. His voice was as warm as his body, if a little exasperated.

"Rakkie. Sleep."

He smothered Arackniss's protests with a kiss on the head.

"*Please.*"

"Heh. Alright, Pent. If you say so."

They lay for a while in silence, save for the noises of the city and the clock on the wall. Aracknis tried to keep still, hoping that sleep would find him. No luck. He shifted, trying to find that perfect, comfortable position that would send him to sleep instantly. His back? No. Maybe on his side, head against Pent's shoulder? Better. A smooth, scaly hand ran through his hair, soothing his mind for just a moment...

No, not good enough. Maybe the other side...?

"Rakkie..." Pent's voice was no longer an endeared whisper, but a frustrated groan.

"Sorry."

A soft chin rested on his head with a frustrated huff. Arackniss closed his eyes and focused on the clock's rhythmic ticking. He tried to ignore the impulses to get up, pace around the room, make plans for the gang. He avoided ideas about who to recruit, where to meet up, what their first target should be. 

One thought still nagged him. What did Sir Pentious think about all this? He seemed on board with the idea, but Arackniss hadn't asked him much about it. Maybe he hadn't made up his mind? It wasn't the best time to ask, but better late than never...

"Hey, Pent?"

"Rakkie, *sleeeep.*" He mumbled through Arackniss's hair, annoyed.

"Yeah, I will. But, uh, how do you... feel? About the gang?"

His only response was a tight squeeze and a little groan. Was that bad? Did he hate the idea, or did he just want Arackniss to stop bothering him? Whatever it meant, he didn't seem to be in the 'talking' mood.

A few more minutes of agonizing silence and stillness followed, until Arackniss just couldn't take any more. He wriggled his way out of Pent's grasp and hopped out of bed, donning a robe as his serpent softly sighed, annoyed by the arachnid's anxiety.

"Sorry, Pent. I'll be back."

With that, he went for a walk through the halls. He'd done it many times before, driven by boredom and curiosity, eventually learning the building's sprawling layout. This time, however, he had a destination in mind.

A short ways from the master bedroom was a dusty, seldom used office. It wasn't large, by the standards of the Serpent's Lair, but it was quiet. That was all he needed. In the back of the room, by a large, dark window, sat a wooden desk. Sturdy as it was, it lacked the 'flair' that Pentious preferred. No decoration or ornate serpentine motif, just plain, solid mahogany (or Hell's nearest equivalent).

Perfect for Arackniss.

He searched its drawers and found an unused notebook, spine cracking from age. Pent surely wouldn't miss it. In fact, he probably wouldn't mind if Arackniss took over this office. You know, for business.

Scrounging around some more, he gathered some dried-up pens, blunt pencils, and rock-hard erasers. A humble beginning, to be sure, but it would do.

Materials in hand, he began his work. Writing notes, sketching out attack plans, listing targets. Just like old days. Well, almost. This time, he had a different crew with different strengths. He'd need new strategies. New plans. New ideas...

Arackniss worked late into the night, his scribbling illuminated only by a dusty lamp. All the while, his mind raced through all the different ways he could build his- *their* gang. 

For the first time in days, he was focused, absorbed in his work. He had a task, a *purpose!* He was his own boss, Hell, his own man!

It was the best night he'd had in a long time.

Arackniss didn't remember falling asleep at the desk. He didn't remember Sir Pentious finding him as the sun rose, and carrying him back to bed. He didn't remember being tucked in with a kiss, or sleeping until two. 

He only remembered his dreams about heists, shootouts, and counting money.

That afternoon, Arackniss woke up with a smile. It was going to be a busy day. 

A good day.

...

The next few days were the happiest Sir Pentious had ever seen Arackniss.

Happy? No, *purposeful.*

He still kept his mood to himself, mostly, but there was something different about him. One could see it in the way he would pour over his plans, researching targets and looking for underlings to recruit. Or the way he carried himself, shoulders square and determination in his multitude of eyes. Even the way he kissed Pent, holding him by the waist and leaning over him as if they were dancing a tango.

Arackniss was whole again.

And he had plans for the city.

...

The red sun rose and set on the mess of concrete, brick, and blood called Pentagram City. Sinners went about their chaotic afterlives, never knowing what the city had in store for them next. They awaited extermination, they awaited their next paycheck, a few fools even awaited salvation.

A spider in a leather jacket began covertly looking for recruits. He waited to find the right people, ones who wouldn't rat him out for a bit of the Boss's favor.

Bombs came pouring out of an overlord's makeshift factories. They sat in crates, waiting for their maker to unleash them. It wouldn't be too long before they turned her enemies into red paste.

A mob boss sensed disloyalty, but from whom? He didn't know, not yet. All he knew was that the rat had to die. Preferably screaming. He wasted no time as he began the search for clues.

After all, why wait?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've had some stuff on my mind recently. I hope to get the next chapter out more quickly!


	17. Chapter 17

  
Greed District, two-thirty in the morning. Heaven illuminated the sleepless streets, its dim blue light casting over the city of the damned. 

As the regular sinners slept, the nights saw a change in people and services. Some jobs were best suited to the cover of darkness. Contract killers accepted payments and provided gruesome proof of their deeds. Traffickers sold their hapless victims on the streets and smugglers risked their afterlives to avoid the city's import taxes. 

In a dark alleyway, a black spider eyed his target and wondered if he could still back out.

It was a small storefront in a haphazardly-built building, covered in cobwebs and graffiti. Plywood covered some of the windows, the others giving a glimpse into the barren interior. A faded sign above the door read "Used Furniture," and a few sad tables and chairs sat crooked in the display window. Most mistook it for some failing business, just another victim of the economy. 

Arackniss knew better. 

It wasn't just a store, it was a safehouse. One of the Family's.

And he was here to burn it down.

Uncertainty rose inside him, threatening to spill over. He'd been loyal to the Family since he became a man. What right did he have to double-cross them? Couldn't he just be neutral?

Deep in the shadows, he crushed his apprehension. He wasn't in the mob any more. They cast him out, and they could pay the price.

His hand fidgeted with a small, ovoid object. A white phosphorous grenade. Not a heavy explosive, by Hell's standards, but plenty for the job. The 'store' was a rickety, half-collapsed thing, full of exposed timber and dried-out wooden furniture. Not exactly built with defense in mind.

Arackniss took a step toward the storefront. Then another. Deep breath, quell all emotion. Here we go.

With a swift motion, he kicked a hole in the cheap window. With another, he dropped the grenade inside. The fuse was long enough that he didn't need to run away. A brisk walk would be enough to get to safety without arousing suspicion.

Behind him, an explosive crack was soon followed by a roaring inferno. He had no time to stop and look, not without drawing attention. No point in staring, right? Right...

No, he had to see this. Arackniss turned back to look at the devastation.

The safehouse was already beyond salvation. Plywood blackened and vinyl panels blistered, dripping off to expose the bare structure beneath. The furniture within charred and caught fire, crumbling into ash that blew away in the infernal wind.

Arackniss hid in the shadows as he watched the blaze. He suppressed the guilt that boiled away in his gut. He'd done nothing wrong, the Family had brought this upon themselves. Right?

The building's modest frame began to collapse, sending showers of sparks into the street. Panicked shouts arose from the houses as locals awakened to the stench of smoke. Arackniss paid them no mind as he walked away. The Family would have done the same to him.

He wasn't a traitor.

...

In a nondescript, blocky building on the west side of Pentagram City, there was a meeting. It wasn't some shady meeting in a dark room, full of distrust and backstabbing. Nor was it an opulent meeting between corporate shareholders, each flaunting their wealth and status. 

No, this was a Family meeting. And that meant practicality.

"Gentlemen, I won't bullshit you. Morale has been low, and I think we all know why."

Nobody dared speak. Interrupting the boss was an unwise idea, at best.

"But that's no reason not to pull your weight. Believe me, I have as much reason to mope as any of you, and here I am. The rest of you got no excuses."

Henroin's stern glare swept across the long table, over the room full of trusted mafiosi. A multitude of eyes stared back, filled with respect, concern, and a touch of hidden fear. 

The tall, broad-shouldered tarantula demon leaned back in his chair. A thin trail of smoke rose from the cigar in his hand, illuminated by the glow of his crimson eyes. He considered saying a few words about his former second-in-command, but none came to mind. Fuck it, no point in getting sentimental. There was more important business today.

"Last night, one of our hideouts was burned down. Two of our men were inside, but neither of them have recovered enough to speak."

Numerous eyes darted around the room, even as the massed mobsters struggled to stay stoic. Henroin searched their faces for any sign of disloyalty, from a nervous expression to a hint of a smirk. He'd had a hunch for days, but now there was no doubt.

"This wasn't an accident. Traces of white phosphorous were found in the wreckage."

He didn't need to elaborate. The safehouse was a well-kept secret, privy to nobody outside the Family.

There was a traitor in the Pentagram City Mob.

More nervous glances, more masked worry. Weakness all around. Nobody had dared touch the Family for decades. Had his soldiers gone soft from easy living? 

"Um, sir...?"

A twitchy, rodent-looking demon spoke up. He seemed... nervous. Hiding something, or just afraid of speaking out of line?

"Could it have been, like, a random arson?"

A silence fell on the room. Henroin stared the rodent down, searching for any sign of disloyalty. 

"What's your name, kid?"

"Um, Carl. But my friends call-"

"Carl, nobody's gonna use a white phosphorus explosive to burn down a random store. It's a waste of money."

Carl shrunk down and mumbled an apology as Henroin continued. 

"Now, sources tell me that Cherri Bomb's been preparing for something big. It could be another attack on the snake, or it could be a war with us."

But that was unlikely. Cherri had no reason to attack them, aside from her love of violence. Besides, she usually took it out on Pentious. Henroin took a pull of his cigar, pushing his emotions deep down into his gut. There was another, more unsettling possibility.

"And then there's Arackniss. He's dangerous enough alone, and it looks like he's still with the snake. This could be the start of his revenge."

Revulsion coiled in the pit of his stomach. 'Revenge,' as if it were the Family's fault. As if he hadn't fucked his own life away. Another voice interrupted, indignant but still cautious.

"Sir, he... Arackniss wouldn't betray us. I knew him better than that."

Henroin straightened involuntarily and stared down the demon. 

"Did you know he was a fag?"

He started to respond, but thought better. Wise choice. Henroin knew Arackniss better than anyone else, and even he'd been blindsided. Now, it seemed nobody knew the man.

Henroin reclined in his chair, taking one last pull of his cigar.

"Arackniss is dead to us. Now, the question is if he's a threat. If not, we don't want to piss off the snake, so we'll leave him be. If he is..."

He didn't need to continue. They knew.

"Either way, I think you all know what this means."

He stood up, leaned over his desk, and spoke solemnly to the group.

"The Family is at war."


	18. Chapter 18

  
In a recently-repurposed office in the Serpent's Lair, a dark-haired spider sat at his desk. In one hand, he loosely held a cigar, letting smoke trail from the gently glowing tip. In the other was a phone, which he stared at with cold discontent.

"So, Vincent, I can't help but notice the lack of recruits."

The reply from the cheap Hell-made speaker was quiet, even cautious. Nervous about his performance? He should be.

"Well, I gotta find the right ones first, you know? I, uh, can't just spill our guts to anyone."

Jesus Christ. Almost a week of Vincent pussyfooting around the mob, too afraid of Henroin to make any kind of progress. Arackniss took a drag and tried not to let the frustration creep into his voice. 

"Tell me. How many 'right ones' have you found so far?"

"Uh, I dunno. Still not sure who's still loyal, who wants to leave... It's a bit of a mess, man."

Arackniss fought back a sigh. Nothing could be simple, could it?

"Look, this was *your* idea. You said the Family was chomping at the bit to work with me, then you said you could get me a gang of my own, and now 'it's a bit of a mess?' Can you do it or not?"

"I... look, man, it takes time. Also, I was hoping for more of a partnership deal? Like, it's your gang, but it's my gang too...?"

Arackniss set the phone down, rubbing his temples. He'd always preferred working alone, or at most, with a small team of trusted allies. No matter his task, he only chose the best.

Vincent was not that.

"Arackniss? You there, dude?"

*Far* from it.

"Call me when you make progress, Vincent. I'm too tired for this shit."

After their curt goodbyes, Arackniss sat alone in silence and heaved a sigh, head in his hands. He tried to bury his frustration with a pull of his cigar, trying not to think about his underling's lack of results. The past few days had tested his patience more than he cared to admit. If he were in the field, this would already be done. He'd have the beginnings of his own mob, and be onto the next step.

But he wasn't in the field. He had to stick around the Lair, sitting at his desk, drafting plans and ideas that might never see the light of day.

It was far from ideal, to say the least.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his brooding. Not many things had ever been able to lighten Arackniss's mood, but his man's attention was one of them.

He glanced at the clock. Almost one in the morning, Jesus. He didn't want to be late for their nightly ritual.

"Be right there, Pent!"

Sir Pentious had long since gotten tired of sleeping alone, and Arackniss was happy to oblige him. Besides, he needed time off from doing nothing at all.

A few short minutes later, the two were curled up together, enjoying each others' warmth. Here, in Pent's arms, plans didn't go awry. People didn't fail him or talk behind his back. And even though he was in Hell, his demons felt so distant.

Arackniss ran a soft hand over Pent's torso. Yellow and black scales twitched at his touch, shimmering in Heaven's distant light. It felt so close, almost within reach...

Arackniss rested his head against Pent's chest with a gentle, calm sigh. A dark, slender arm wrapped around him as he tried to just enjoy the moment. He loved this man. Pentious accepted him for who he was, cared for him, and asked for nothing in return. Yeah, things with the Mob were taking longer than they should, but Arackniss had his man. 

What more did he need?

"Should I ask?"

Pent's voice cut through the quiet, just like the last few nights before. Sleepy conversation had become something of a habit for the couple. Nothing heavy, they just talked about their days and such. The little things. 

"Ah, nothing new. Tried making some plans, but..."

He tried to find the right words, but couldn't. Fuck it, no reason to bother Pent with his feelings.

"...Well, you know. Uh, how about you?"

Sir Pentious ran gentle fingers down Arackniss's back, feeling every knotted scar and tense muscle. What was bothering him? The little spider guarded his feelings like treasure, only giving the barest glimpses into his thoughts. Doubtlessly a survival mechanism from years of Hell's backstabbing culture. Pent used to envy people who could socialize, but if this was the price, he was happy to have been a loner.

"...Pent? Something wrong?"

Eight tired eyes drifted up to meet his gaze, and Pentious realized he'd been staring. He tried to look away, but couldn't manage.

"No, I--"

And now it was rubbing off on him, was it? No, that wouldn't do. If something was bothering Arackniss, he had to know. He had to help.

"Rakkie?"

"Mhm?"

Pentious searched for the right words. Something eloquent, something that would get through that tough emotional shell. But the words didn't come. He settled for bluntness.

"Are you... okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

Arackniss's response was a little *too* quick, like pulling his hand away from a fire. Why? Didn't Rakkie know that he only wanted to help?

Sir Pentious replied by shifting to his side and wrapping both arms around Rakkie, gently squeezing the spider. Soft fluff tickled his scales as Arackniss returned his embrace. Nothing could be simple, it seemed.

But there would be time to sort it all out later. It was getting late, anyway.

It didn't take long for Pentious to fall asleep. Arackniss soon followed, nestled between soft, scaly arms.

And there they slept, in the soft glow of Heaven.

...

Northern Industrial Zone, Pentagram City.

In the far north of the city, behemoth factories churned out everything a demon could want. Vehicles, ammunition, consumer electronics, pre-packaged drugs, all manufactured by countless machines and indentured servants. Noxious smog drowned the buildings, tinted red-orange by the rising sun. The din of machines, screams of beaten slaves, and ever-present gunfire rang out in the rubble-coated streets like a symphony of misery and torment. Any hapless slave, any starving vagabond, any clueless bystander could attest that this was the truest form of Hell.

God, what a shithole. 

In a burnt-out warehouse, a busted-up radio blared out '107.5 FM: Hell's Angriest Hits.' Half-assembled explosives littered a makeshift workshop, bombs of every size and shape. Pipe bombs, hand grenades, rockets, the little hideout had them all. For the owner, explosives weren't just a hobby. They were a *passion.*

Cherri Bomb hunched over a workbench, trying to cram as much 'fuck you' into each bomb as she could. It was just to take her mind off... things. Yeah, *things.* Like Snakey boy and Henroin's little monster getting together. Her mortal enemy (one of them, anyway) and Angel's asshole 'brother.' What were the odds? 

She tried to focus on her work, but the thought just kept slithering around her brain. A-rat-niss and Edgelord, living happily ever after while Angel turned tricks for that shitbag pimp. The dark-haired douchebag and the inflated ego with a tail. They deserved each other, huh?

Whatever. It didn't matter how she felt about it. She had *plans.*

Pinned to the wall behind the cluttered workbench, a map of the city loomed over the hazardous space. Red circles marked potential targets, and Cherri's single red eye darted between them, weighing options and measuring risks. She knew *who* to hit, but *how?* There were a billion ways to skin a spider, after all. Ah, Hell, there was plenty of time to plan it out.

Cherri stretched her tired limbs, watching the sun rise beyond a long-shattered window. Soon, her best friend would get his chance at revenge. He fucking deserved it, after all he'd been through. Plus, a bit of new territory wouldn't hurt matters, right? 

A hint of a grin crossed her face as she imagined the chaos. Explosions, fire, buildings crumbling, and the duo's enemies being driven before them. They would raise Hell for sure!

[And then they'd fucking party.](https://youtu.be/zuuyR7vrL6M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, boy! That was a long wait. I hope to get the next chapter out sooner. But that's what I said last time, isn't it? Thank you all for being so patient!


	19. Chapter 19

  
In a dim, crowded conference room in the east side of Pentagram City, silence reigned supreme. Dim evening sunlight entered through the third-story window, as did a gentle breeze. Both were swallowed into the dark, musty room. The outside traffic, the ticking clock, the humming of the ventilation were deafening to the occupants.

Henroin looked over the assembled mobsters. Some of his most - and least - trustworthy soldiers gathered before him, awaiting... what? Orders? Information? Judgement? 

They didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Gentlemen."

He produced a cigar from his jacket and waited to see if anyone dared interrupt him. Nobody did.

Good. 

"I'm disappointed."

He let the words hang in the air for a while and flicked open a lighter. Concerned glances darted around from gangster to gangster, before he spoke again.

"People have been slacking. A bunch of you have been showing up late. Or not at all."

He paused to light the cigar, savoring a slow pull as the men gathered before him tried to remain stoic.

"Discipline will be given out as needed, of course. But I've noticed that *some* of you are worse about it than others."

His eyes snapped to a slouched figure. One who wasn't fucking *paying attention.*

"Vincent."

Vincent snapped to attention, having been staring out the window at nothing in particular. He gave his best pair of casual finger-guns.

"Yo."

Henroin seemed unimpressed, somehow.

"You've been late or absent for a week, now. What the fuck have you been doing that's more important than the Family?"

Truth be told, Vincent had been missing work to sneak around and trying to garner support for the new gang. Of course, he couldn't say that or they'd bury in concrete or something.

He put on his best 'I'm not lying, promise' voice and made something up on the spot.

"Ah, you know, just out gambling. Real sorry about-"

"Where?"

"I- what?"

Henroin's eyes burned through him with a sudden suspicion. Vincent tried to keep from sweating, but couldn't. The room was so fucking hot that his armpits may as well have been sprinklers. All six of them. And he was wearing his best suit! Fuck's sake.

"Where were you gambling? Nobody saw you in any of our casinos."

The Mob owned every gambling joint from the east side to the city center. Shit, was the surveillance that tight? Didn't matter. He could come up with an answer, no problem.

"Uh..."

No. Fucking. Problem. C'mon, brain! Think of something!

"I..."

Then a gangster spoke up, and everything toppled over.

"Hey, didn't I see you in the Snake's turf?"

Oh, shit. Then another voice, another crack in his facade.

"Wait. Is that why you asked if you wanted Arackniss back? You in league with him?"

More voices, some loud, some little more than mutters. 

"You asked me the same thing!"

"You're the fuckin' rat!"

"You didn't even *ask* me! What I'm not good enough?!"

More accusations followed, more pieces of the masquerade fell out of place. Soon, the murmuring became shouting, pointed fingers, stinging needles of truth all directed at one innerly terrified Vincent.

Henroin raised a hand, bringing the room to silence.

"Quiet. Claims like that need damn good evidence. Now, I'm sure that Vincent has a good explanation for all of this."

Vincent blinked. Every eye in the room was on him.

"Well... You see, uh..."

His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. The only door was blocked by a swarm of angry mafiosi, ready for blood. It seemed that there was only one remaining option. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and...

Vincent threw himself out of a third-story window and crashed into a dumpster below. Before anyone could react, he'd dashed to his wife's beaten-up car and thrown open the door. He leapt in, slamming the door behind him and startling the insectoid woman waiting inside.

"MARY, DRIVE! DRIVEDRIVEDRIVEDRIVE!"

Screeching tires drowned out the mobsters' shouts before the engine faded into the distance. By the time the mobsters found their wits (and guns), Vincent was long gone. If they ever found him, it wouldn't be today. 

Eventually, the room calmed and an uneasy stillness settled over the mafiosi. Suddenly, the pieces all fit together. Arackniss hadn't just fucked the snake, he'd been planning to *betray* them. 

It hardly seemed possible. This was the fighter who most of them had known for decades, who'd carved out a slice of the city before even Henroin came down. This was the guy they looked up to, who'd led them from victory to victory.

And now...

Henroin tried to ignore the eyes upon him. He tried to keep the shock off his face. He tried to calm down, think rationally, and keep his hand from shaking as he took a pull from his cigar. He couldn't afford to show weakness. Not if he valued his position, his *afterlife.*

He tried to think of something to say. Something that would preserve what little morale they had left.

Nothing came to mind.

After the... *incident,* some members of the Family thought he should just kill Arackniss. Henroin refused it. Arackniss, dangerous as he was, wasn't a threat. Besides, they didn't need to make an enemy of Pentious. 

That was all true, but there was more to it. 

He'd also done it for Molly. For his wife. Hell, even for himself. Call it weakness, or sentimentality, but he'd need a damn good reason to erase his own flesh and blood. And now... 

He sat back and tried not to let on how his heart thrashed in his chest, like a wild animal hellbent on to escape.

Had he been too soft? Too hard? Was Molly right all along? What would she do when she found out? There was no way she'd understand. She was too much like her mother. 

But it didn't matter anymore. He steeled himself, pushed his emotions down into his gut.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

Henroin had to kill his son.

...

Arackniss was at his desk when it all fell apart.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from Vincent. Progress? He almost smiled at the thought.

  
[covers blown. me+wife r runnign far awy. Henroin knows. good luck]

  
It took him a moment for the meaning to sink in. At first, it felt surreal. This was a nightmare, it *had* to be. His heart leapt to his throat, hammering like a Thompson. This couldn't be real, but it *was.*

The plan was over.

Henroin knew.

Arackniss didn't remember dropping the phone. He sank to his knees, vaguely aware that he was breathing too quickly. There was no way he and Pent could defeat the Mob. 

No place in the city was safe from Henroin's wrath.

An image flashed in his mind of Pent, full of Exterminator-steel bullets, those big, loving eyes staring sightlessly into oblivion. He tried to push the thought away, but it wouldn't leave him. This was his fault. He'd flown too close to the sun, and now they'd both pay for his mistake.

Maybe he could offer himself up, in exchange for Pent's life? No, they'd never be satisfied. As long as the Pentagram City Mob existed, they were both in danger.

They were going to die. Because of him.

Christ, did he need a drink.

...

That night, Sir Pentious returned to a bedroom that smelled of Pinot Noir. 

"Bad day, Rakkie?"

The spider was curled up in the sheets, saying nothing. In fact, he'd hardly spoken a word since that morning. His expression was nigh unreadable, as usual, but his body spoke volumes. 

What could've done this to him?

Sir Pentious slid in next to him, wrapping himself around the spider like a blanket and placing a kiss on top of his head. Arackniss meekly returned the embrace, closing his eyes and enjoying Pent's warmth.

They lay in silence for a while, before Arackniss spoke.

"...Pent?"

Sir Pentious perked up at the sound of Rakkie's voice.

"Yes?"

There was another, shorter silence as Arackniss searched his alcohol-soaked brain for the right words.

"I, uh..."

He froze mid sentence and tried again.

"...Thanks, Pent."

"For what?"

"For everything. For letting me stay when you barely knew me, for keeping my spirits up, for treating me the way you do."

Arackniss gazed up at his beautiful serpent. What kind of afterlife could they have had together, if they'd only had more time? He considered his next words for a moment before continuing.

"I love you. And, uh, I'm glad we got this time together. And I'm sorry that I didn't say it more."

He nestled up against Pentious's chest, feeling the warmth of his body. Two arms and a long tail wrapped around him in a gentle squeeze. They stayed like that for a little while. He wished it could last forever. Finally, Pent spoke.

"I love you too, Rakkie."

Arackniss's spine tingled, his heart skipped a beat, and his eyes began to water. Fuck, why couldn't he have said it sooner, when they weren't facing their final deaths?

"If only we'd met sooner, Pent..."

Pentious gave a sleepy chuckle.

"Oh, well. We have all the time in the world, now."

Arackniss winced internally. He thought about telling Pent about the message, about Henroin's wrath. He knew he should, but...

He looked up at Pentious, who was slowly falling asleep beside him. No, he couldn't ruin this. Just one more night of bliss before the storm.

He squeezed Pent as his thoughts slurred together, mixed with wine and liquor. Even if it meant his death, Arackniss didn't regret a thing.

...

The next morning, Sir Pentious awoke to Arackniss's gentle snoring. The spider had buried his face in Pent's side, holding him tight with six arms. Oh Arackniss, so guarded with his emotions, all cuddled up to his man. Pent had to smile at the sight.

Pentious laid back and enjoyed the moment, but only for a while. He was a busy demon, after all. He had orders to give, parts to fabricate, and a workshop to maintain. Slowly, he got up, stretched, and began to get out of bed.

But suddenly, six arms greedily pulled him back in, and Arackniss, sleep still in his eyes, smothered him in hot, lusty kisses. It didn't take long before he was on top of the flustered serpent, playing with his hair, kissing his face as if he'd never get the chance again.

Was this a special occasion? Rakkie's birthday, his *death* day, national 'Get Drunk and Fuck Your Boyfriend' day? One for the calendar, whatever it was.

Eight amorous eyes gazed down at Sir Pentious, red as last night's wine on his spider's breath. 

"...Bellissimo... Mio bellissimo serpente..."

Arackniss's gently slurred whisper was intoxicating. His lips, loosened by the alcohol, brushed against Pentious's neck, occasionally stopping to place a gentle kiss before continuing up toward his reddening cheeks. Six arms held him close, stroking his dark skin as two legs straddled his tail. 

Oh, dear. This was not how he expected to spend his morning. 

"Sei l'uomo più... bello del mondo..."

...Not that he was complaining, of course.

"Um, Rakkie, I have business to att--"

He didn't finish the sentence. Arackniss's soft lips met his own, drowning his worries in the taste of Pinot Noir. 

Sir Pentious almost melted right there. He felt the hot breath and soft kisses on his neck, the hands on his chest, unfastening his nightshirt, slowly working their way down...

"Pentious, my love..."

'Love.' Hearing that word again, from those lips, it did something to him. He could feel it in his chest as he gazed up at Arackniss. 

Soft pink decorated Pent's cheeks, giving them a warm glow, almost as warm as the scales beneath Arackniss's fingers. Two dark hands reached up to his chest fluff, sinking deep, massaging the slim muscle beneath.

"Ahah... S-special occasion?"

Arackniss had no words to describe how his man made him feel. Sir Pentious was the most beautiful demon he'd ever seen, and he deserved to know it. He deserved everything Arackniss could give him and more.

"...Ti amo."

Just like so many times before, he worked his way down. Soft hands stroked his face, playing with his hair. He managed a little smile at the serpent's racing heart, the anticipation in every breath, the gentle twitching of his tail.

He hoped, against all odds, that it could be like this forever.

Two hands propped him up as four more reached down, massaging Pentious's stiff lengths. A small gasp, then a little moan was all the encouragement he needed.

"Rakkie..."

It was a desire, a desperate plea for Arackniss to go further. So further he went, placing gentle kisses on the underside of each shaft as the serpent squirmed beneath him. His own 'serpent' could use some attention too, but Pent was top priority. This time, it was all about *him.*

Lips over the teeth, hold his breath, it was practically instinct at this point. He picked one and slid down as far as he could, barely surpressing his gag reflex. He stayed there as long as he could manage, gently moving back and forth, before pulling back to breathe. The taste of presex drove him on, promising him the satisfaction of pleasuring Pent. He was close, now...

But he wanted it to *last.* Slowly, gently, he withdrew, letting the slick member glisten in the dim morning light. With his hands he got to work servicing both cocks, massaging the bases, stroking the flanks, fondling the tips. He planted soft, suckling kisses along each shaft, feeling his man twitch and strain with each one. Natural lubricant dribbled from each crown, threatening to pour over at any second.

Sir Pentious lolled back on the mattress, eyes closed in full bliss. It didn't take long before Rakkie's touch overwhelmed him, sending waves of pleasure cascading through his body. He writhed and coiled in the aftershock, sent to heaven and back by twin orgasms.

"Agh, my fuckin' eyes!"

Pentious looked down to see his spider in distress, covering one side of his face with his hand.

"I- oh..."

Mortified, Pent's face went beet-red. Despite the circumstances Arackniss couldn't help but smile. How could he stay mad at that face?

He gave one of Pent's cocks a gentle squeeze, prompting a soft shudder from the serpent.

"Wait here, Pent. I'll be right back."

With that, he sauntered off to wash his face. If they only had a few more days together, it would be enough. 

He would *make* it enough.

...

A few short minutes later, and they were snuggled together in clean sheets. Pent's head rested against Rakkie's chest, listening to the spider's heartbeat. Any interest in getting out of bed was long gone as he enjoyed a tight, six-armed embrace.

"So, Rakkie. What was the occasion?"

"We're gonna die."

He caressed Rakkie's back, feeling the firm muscles under his scarred-

...Wait.

"...Um, say again?"

Arackniss gave him a gentle, comforting squeeze. He gazed up into Pentious's confused eyes with a sad smile and heaved a sigh.

"Henroin knows about the gang. He's coming for us."

Sir Pentious blinked. An expression of unbridled horror failed to materialize on his face. Sorrow, betrayal, and anger didn't bother to show up, either.

"...And?"

What? Did he not hear? Henroin was going to fucking kill them!

"He's, uh, going to kill us, Pent."

Pentious's look of confusion gave way to mirth.

"Ha! I'm sure he'll try."

Now it was Arackniss's turn to be confused.

"You're not... worried? Afraid? Mourning the, uh, time we could've spent together?"

A fanged grin started at one corner of Pent's mouth and spread across his face. 

"*Nobody* penetrates the Serpent's Lair."

Slowly, he wrapped himself around the poor, baffled spider. Arackniss tried to squirm, but the serpent's iron grip held him firm. Two red eyes stared into his own practically glowing in maniacal glee.

"*Nobody* defies *Sir Pentious!*"

His grip relaxed, his expression softened, and the edge left his voice. Pent placed a gentle kiss on Rakkie's forehead before continuing.

"...And *nobody* lays a finger on the man I love."

It was hard not to get a little pink in the face at that.

"We'll be just fine, Rakkie. Just stay here. You'll be safe, love."

Arackniss was about to protest, but one of Pent's hands found its way down to his core.

"Now, I think I owe you from before..."

There wasn't much time for discussion after that.

...

Soon after, Arackniss returned to the room he once called his office. Not that he had a reason to, any more. There was no gang to recruit, no plans to make. Despite the news, it was the same as he'd left it the previous day, when it all came crashing down around him. Two near-empty bottles say on his desk, their contents only now fading from his blood (and still throbbing in his skull).

Pent's plan was simple. Just stay in the Lair until the Mob was dealt with. Until Henroin was off their trail, whenever that would be.

Arackniss tried to feel lucky. At least he was safe here in the Serpent's Lair, right? Maybe he could stay here forever, sheltered from Henroin's wrath.

Maybe.

He cast an eye to the mahogany (or something similar) desk. Written notes, plans, snippets of his last grasp at glory littered its surface, now devoid of purpose. Useless.

His fingers curled involuntarily.

He wanted to scream, to throw something, bash Henroin's skull in, but he couldn't. 

So he sat down and did what it seemed he was good at.

Nothing.


	20. Chapter 20

  
Arackniss sat alone in the room he once called an office.

Three dozen -- no, three dozen and one -- origami cranes littered his desk. Most were made of plain sheets, some were made of newspaper, and a few still bore the scribblings of long-abandoned plans. Each was folded with more skill than the last, practiced and perfected until they could be considered works of art.

Arackniss hadn't enjoyed making a single one of them.

It had been three weeks since the plan fell apart, and he had felt every second like a nail in his flesh.

He'd learned dozens of cocktail recipes, trying to perfect each one until Pent put the liquor where he couldn't reach. He spot-cleaned his 'office' every day, despite no longer having a purpose for the room. He'd tried clean the rest of the Lair, but there were too many high surfaces. He had offered time and again to help Pentious in the workshop, but his interference only made things worse. Even their lovemaking had become... well, not *stale,* but certainly not the same as before.

Sure, he'd tried to get another operation going, but it never got of the ground. Hell, it barely cleared the hangar. Nobody wanted to be associated with Henroin's leftovers.

And now, here he was. Making birds out of paper as he slowly lost his mind.

He stretched back in the chair, trying not to compulsively check the clock. Last time he looked, it was two thirty-one in the afternoon. Before that, it was two twenty-nine. Before that, also two twenty-nine. A watched kettle never boils, as his mother had said, and he'd been staring at the kettle all day. Despite himself, he inadvertently glanced at the clock again.

Two thirty-one.

Fuck it, time for a drink.

Pent might have taken the liquor away, but Arackniss could settle for wine. As he stood up to head for the wine cellar, his hellphone buzzed. It was a text from Molly. Excellent! As much as he tried not to bother her, he'd been missing their conversations.

He opened the message.

His eyes went wide.

In a few short moments, he was out the door, paper birds and alcohol long forgotten.

...

"You'll never stop us, snake! We'll keep coming for you, until you've taken your last breaths!"

Sir Pentious eyed the prisoner with mild contempt, but payed him little mind. He wasn't the first assassin Henroin had sent, nor would he be the last. Some had begged for mercy, some had spat at him in defiance, all had been returned to the mob - in one piece or many - with the same message.

'Send better assassins, or send none at all.'

"We're the fucking Mafia! We got no enemies, 'cause our enemies are all DEAD!"

"...Mhm. That's nice."

Pentious wasn't worried about the mafia. The Serpent's Lair had over a century of refined security systems to kill or capture any would-be intruders. No, he was worried about Arackniss.

"You fucking degenerates are going to pay! Nobody- *nobody-* fucks with Henroin!"

Sir Pentious stifled a yawn as the captive struggled against his bonds. The poor demon- Arackniss, not this simpleton- had been holed up in his office all week, just drinking and staring at the clock. He hardly even spoke any more. If only Sir Pentious knew how to help...

"We only gotta get lucky once, snake! All it takes is one slip, one fuckup, and you're done! You hear me?! DO- *Mmph!*"

The would-be assassin struggled against the rag shoved in his mouth, but Sir Pentious quickly secured it with heavy cord.

"Much better. Now, hold still..."

Pentious produced a custom laser cutter as the would-be assassin's eyes widened in horror.

Brutal as it may have been, Pentious had to discourage future intrusions, both for his sake and for Rakkie's. He was about to make the first slice when Arackniss burst in.

"Pent! I got a messa-"

He froze, looking between the laser-wielding Pentious and the panicking captive.

"...Is this a bad time?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Though I wouldn't discuss anything confidential in front of our 'guest.'"

Arackniss looked at the demon in the chair, morbidly curious if he could recognize the man. It was hard to tell, with the gag and all.

"Uh, let's take it somewhere else, then."

"Can it wait? I'm a little busy, dear."

The mobster struggled against his bonds, trying desperately to spit out the gag.

"It's important."

Sir Pentious gave him a gentle smile as he leaned forward and kissed Rakkie on the lips.

"Of course, my love. Our friend can-"

"Get a room, ya fuckin' prick-pumpers!"

The two snapped to look at the intruder, who'd somehow managed to un-gag himself.

"Know what? You go ahead, Pent. I'll wait outside."

"Wait, forget I- no, wait! Stop!"

Arackniss closed the door behind him as the pleading was cut short. 

...

A few minutes later, Pentious emerged from the chamber reeking of blood and fried demon.

"Now. Where were we?"

Arackniss pulled out his phone, showing him Molly's texts. 

"Anthony's going to attack the Mob's headquarters." Pentious squinted to see the messages.

  
[angel wants revnge on th efamly]

[he says henroin s weak with u gone]

[coudnt talk him out of it]

[i dont think he can srvive this]

  
{do you want me to stop him}

  
[he wont listn to u, and his phones off]

[hes going to do it tonight]

  
There was more. He had texted Molly to say goodbye in case things went wrong before going totally silent. He hadn't told anyone else, and neither had Molly. As far as Arackniss knew, only the four of them had any idea what Angel was going to do.

"That's... that's suicide."

"...I know."

Sir Pentious wasn't one to care about his rivals' fates, but this was Rakkie's brother. Would Arackniss want to help Angel? Stop him? Or would stand back and he let the cards fall as they may?

"Pent..."

Arackniss took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm gonna help him. It's the right thing to do."

Well. That answered that. Pentious returned his gaze, holding Rakkie with two gentle hands.

"I'm coming with you."

No way in Hell was he going to sit back while his love went off to battle. If Arackniss was going, he could count on all the support that Sir Pentious could provide. Besides, he'd been waiting to show his spider the awe-inspiring power of the Medusa, and this was the perfect chance!

But mostly, it was about keeping Rakkie safe.

Arackniss hesitated. Did he have the right to drag Pent into this? Hell, did he have the right to refuse?

He forced a smile and put a soft hand on the serpent's shoulder.

"You and me against the world, huh?"

A devilish grin arose on Sir Pentious's face.

"A fair fight, is it not?"

Damn right, Pent. Damn right.

...

"The Medusa has enough firepower to level a fortress. A single shot from the Immolation Beam (patent pending) will destroy the Mafia stronghold, leaving none standing!"

As Sir Pentious broke into a maniacal cackle, Arackniss looked up at the vast machine. Guns bristled from seemingly every surface, glowing with arcane energy he could hardly fathom. He didn't doubt its destructive power for a second, but...

"We're not trying to bust a fortress, we're trying to help Angel. Blasting him to red mist ain't gonna cut it. What about precision weapons? Get me low over the battlefield, and I can snipe 'em off all day."

Arackniss hadn't done his target practice in a while, though. Of all the amenities the Lair had within its walls, a shooting range was not one of them. He'd need to get low to be effective.

Sir Pentious stroked his chin and considered the possibility. The Medusa had impressive armor for a rigid airship, true. But going low over an active battlefield was too great a risk. As proud of his great machine as he was, the Medusa was hardly cut out for precision. It was more of a high-energy laser cannon than a scalpel, so to speak. 

Perhaps they could parachute down under cover of a smokescreen? But they'd still be at risk of flak rounds, or even random bullets. 

Sir Pentious sighed, shoulders weighed down by disappointment. He hadn't taken the Medusa on a mission in some time. It appeared he'd have to wait a while longer to show Arackniss its terrible destructive power.

"Well, perhaps an aerial assault is the *worst* idea." 

Arackniss put a comforting arm around his waist.

"Hey, maybe we can take it for a spin another time. For now, how about something less... conspicuous?"

That would have to do.

...

In a black luxury automobile decorated with gilded serpents, Arackniss watched the city fly by from the passenger seat. He produced his phone and had a conversation with his sister. It could very well be his last.

  
{hey, molly?}

{thank you for evrything}

{youre the best sister i could ask for}

{and i love you}

  
[i love u too, rakkie]

[but your scaring me}

[ur not goin to do somethin stupid, are u?]

  
{no}

{im going to do right by anthony}

  
[ur going to fight the family?]

  
{yes}

{im done living in fear}

{and im done being a shit brother}

{anthony needs me}

  
[i wont stop u, rakkie]

[just please be careful]

  
{i will}

  
[and please dont kill henroin if you hav a choice]

[i know hes an asshole, but hes still my dad]

[please]

  
{we'll see}

  
[<3]

  
{<3}

...

[A red sun burned low over Pentagram City, casting deep hues upon the sinners beneath.](https://youtu.be/gkLvpt9Z3fA) The offices and slums of the west side were eerily quiet, tension soaking the streets like gasoline.

Two sinners drove away from the city in a beat-to-hell sedan. One was a former mobster in a leather jacket, the other was the damned fool who married him. If they only stopped for gas, they could make it to Imp City by nightfall. After that, who knows?

Two former sons of Henroin geared up for battle. One cleaned and loaded all the guns he could carry. If he was going to die that night, he'd do it on his own terms. The other rode shotgun in an inconspicuous ride, letting his love taking the wheel. He'd repay his debts, or die trying.

A pink spider watched the local news, her expression grim. People she cared about would die before the sun rose, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only question was how many.

And in the middle of it all, in a blocky, nondescript building, the Pentagram City Mob unknowingly awaited judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing after the chapter went live. Please disregard what it said previously.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: This one has a lot of violence. Gunfights, implications of parental abuse, and a really mean tarantula. Like, *really* mean. So be ready for that if you still want to read it. We're in the endgame, now!

The sun was setting on the west side of Pentagram City.

Its last rays of the day painted the Family headquarters in firey orange. The blocky building loomed over the narrow streets, an ugly thing made of bare concrete and dirty windows. It was almost as horrible as the man who ruled from inside it.

The man Angel once called a father.

Angel Dust slowly, calmly walked ever closer to the HQ. He'd waited years, even decades, but Arackniss had stood in his way. Even if he could defeat his brother, Molly would never forgive him for killing him *and* Henroin. No, she'd forgive him, but it would hurt her. And no way in Hell would he hurt Molly. 

As he scanned the defenses (lacking, it seemed), a pang of guilt echoed through his soul. Molly didn't deserve to lose anyone, but it had to happen. He'd even told her everything he needed to, just in case. How much she meant to him, that he loved her more than anyone, how he wished it could have been different.

Confident as he was, he owed her that much at the very least.

Six hands cracked their knuckles in tandem as numerous hidden holsters rustled under his jacket. No matter what happened, the Family would pay for casting him out. They'd pay for every day he had to live off the streets, every degrading act his pimp had forced him into, every insult and slur they'd shoved in his face. They'd pay for denying him the life he could've had.

Because he was goddamn *Angel Dust.*

And he had a score to settle.

His pulse pounded in his ears. The building was just a few yards away, now. He took a slow, deep breath and drew his guns. 

This is it, Angel. Time to take what you're owed.

Angel allowed himself a grin as he aimed for the first startled guard. Seconds later, shots rang out. Civillians ran from the scene. Chaos erupted in the concrete headquarters.

And the streets ran red with the blood of the damned.

...

A black car sped through the trash-lined streets of Pentagram City. Ahead loomed a concrete building, stained by decades of acid rain and dust storms. Muffled gunshots echoed from within. 

"Ah, shit. It's started."

"Fashionably late, darling. Shall we make our dramatic entrance?"

Through the tinted window, Arackniss scanned the headquarters.

"Looks like the action's going on inside. Not enough windows to snipe, so..."

He let out a sigh. Close quarters combat wasn't normally his style, but he could make due. At least he already knew the layout. He'd been in worse fights, although he couldn't remember when.

With a glowing grin, Pentious clasped his hand as the car came to a stop.

"Our first battle together, Rakkie! I'll take the Ionizer Cannon. You'll enjoy using a laser rifle, I'm sure... Oh! Unless you wanted to try the Muon Ray! Let's see, what else did I bring...?"

Pent began rummaging through the backseat, pulling out various sciencey gadgets and guns that Arackniss would never know how to use. He radiated boundless excitement along with a fierce confidence, as if the universe itself were on their side. But somehow, his mood was also... warm. Reassuring.

And Arackniss couldn't afford to lose that.

"Pent..."

He searched for the right words. His lover had... a bit of an ego, to be sure. He certainly wouldn't just wait outside.

"...I need to go alone. Uh, for now."

Pent crossed his arms. He knew where this was going.

"If it's for my *safety*..."

"No, no. It's just... It's personal."

Pentious didn't look the least bit convinced. Truth be told, though, that *was* part of the reason.

"...It's between me and Anthony."

"And if your *beast* of a father shows his face?"

A spike of emotion ran through him. Anger? Fear? Excitement? He couldn't say.

"I'll handle him. He may be bigger, but it's two on one."

Sir Pentious made some mix of a sigh and a groan. 

"Fine. Just don't do anything stupid. More so than this, at least..."

Arackniss cut him off with a long, tender kiss. For just a moment, he forgot about the danger. He forgot about the Family. Until Rakkie finally pulled away, Pent forgot about everything but his man.

"Stay safe. Okay, Pent? I'll call on you if I need your help. I love you."

Then, with a smile and a gentle squeeze of Pent's shoulders, Arackniss left. It took a moment before Sir Pentious could react, even longer to notice the warmth in his cheeks. That man knew his every weakness, didn't he? He slumped down with a sigh. 

"...I love you too, Rakkie."

...

Angel Dust strolled down the dim halls of the Family headquarters, emptying magazines into any sorry sons-of-bitches he met. They went down easy as a liquored-up John, the few survivors running or limping to safety. It was hard not to let a maniacal grin spread across his face as bullets and blood peppered the ugly, faded wallpaper. No, not hard. Goddamn impossible!

"Yeah, dat's right! Crawl away, ya fuckin' cowards! *Nothin'* can fuckin' stop me! AAAHAHAHA!!"

Then someone spoke up, and his mood was ruined.

"I don't think they're listening, Anthony."

Oh, shit. 

Angel spun around, leveling six guns at the familiar voice behind him. He tried to keep up the ballsy persona, as if he wasn't staring down a trained assassin with eighty years of experience.

Emphasis on *tried.*

"Da fuck're you doin' here? Ya still takin the old man's side?!"

Arackniss crossed two pairs of arms, and cracked his knuckles with the third. He seemed unfazed by his brother's growled threats.

"I'm here to *help* you, dumbass. And I ain't gonna be much use full of lead."

Angel didn't look at him for even a second before turning away and starting back down the hall, his face a stony mask.

"I don' *need* ya fuckin' help. Go choke on some double-dicks."

Arackniss followed, struggling to keep up with his brother's long strides.

"Look, I know I've been a shit brother--"

"Ya don't fuckin' say."

"--And you deserved better. Now I just--"

Gunfire interrupted him as another mobster crumpled to the floor. But it didn't stop him from yapping, the stupid little prick.

"--I want to do the right thing, Anthony. I want to help you!"

Angel stopped in his tracks, still facing away from his brother. His shoulders heaved with an exhasperated sigh.

"Ugh. Fine! Ya wanna tag along, be my fuckin' guest."

Before Arackniss could reply, Angel held a finger to his mouth in a classic 'shut the fuck up' gesture.

"Two things. First, dis don't mean we's friends or nothin.' Second, it ain't my problem if ya get shot, or chicken out, or jus' can't keep up. Got it?"

Angel retracted his hand to let Arackniss speak.

"Got it. I'll keep up, Anthony."

Arackniss took an involuntary step back as Angel leaned in close, jamming a finger into the smaller spider's chest. 

"An' another thing. It's 'Angel Dust' now, an' don't you forget it."

"Yeah. Sure thing, uh, Angel Dust."

Angel stood upright, slipping a new mag into a pistol and cocking back the slide.

"Dat's better. Let's go."

...

The two worked their way through the compound, hallway by hallway, door by door. The Family had always relied on their twisting labyrinth of corridors to slow intruders, but Arackniss had long known each one by instinct. Against the off-guard mafia, they were doing better than expected.

As Arackniss kept behind corners, felling each target in a single, careful shot, Angel walked down each hall with six guns blazing. Many of his bullets went wide, high, or hit the ground, but he just kept spewing them. It worked, too. Some goons dropped like bricks, some dove into cover under the relentless torrent of lead. Not the most efficient strategy, but Arackniss couldn't argue with the results.

"So, uh, Angel."

Two goons dove for cover as Arackniss lined up a shot. Angel's Tommy gun clattered away at another, sending him twitching to the ground.

"Yeah?"

A screaming mobster charged the two with a knife and a nose full of powder. That worked about as well as could be expected.

"You got a target in mind, or are you just, y'know, trying to do some damage?"

Angel's grin faded for a moment as something dark flickered in his eyes. The duo crouched behind a wall under a hail of lead while two mafiosi took turns reloading and providing covering fire.

"The old man."

Oh, shit. Arackniss wasn't ready for this, not by a long shot. He hurredly replaced his mag as Molly's words sprung back into his brain: 

'I know he's an asshole, but he's still my dad.'

Angel didn't notice his brother's hesitation as he fired blindly from behind an overturned table until his magazine ran out. He ripped it from the gun and tossed it aside.

"Been waitin' years to do dis shit. Now, with you outa' the picture, 'pops' is losin' his god-damned mind."

Angel's smile returned in force, fueled by decades of anger and abuse. He produced a drum mag and slammed it into his Thompson with gusto.

"Strike 'em while the iron's hot, right? Never been a better - look out, dey's tryin ta flank us - better time to come back an' kick ass."

Arackniss considered his brother's words as he put a round through the rat-looking demon who'd been sneaking up from the side. A good, clean kill.

"You, uh, weren't gonna do it while I was around, right? Attack the Family, I mean."

Angel jerked back the slide and aimed down the hall. Well, 'aimed' might be the wrong word. He pointed it in the general direction of the enemy and held the trigger as they scrambled for cover. But they were too slow, and the bullets ripped through their bodies like tissue paper.

"Ha! I ain't suicidal! An' Molly likes ya, so..."

It was hard not to crack a smile at the (possibly unintended) compliment. But he managed.

"Hey, 'Rakkie. Ya hear dat?"

Arackniss perked up, listening for something important. All he could hear was the humming vents and the buzz of the flourescent lights.

"...No. I don't hear anything."

"Me neither. I think we's good to go."

Angel stood up, stretched, and headed down the hall. He stopped at an intersection, picking a direction seemingly at random.

"Hey, Anth- uh, Angel?"

"Ugh. *What?*"

"Boss's office is *that* way."

Arackniss jerked his thumb to the correct route. Angel tried to look nonchalant, instead of embarassed and annoyed. It didn't work.

"Yeah, okay. You lead da way, I guess."

...

The office was mostly quiet when they arrived.

The thick, wooden door was locked. A firm kick from Angel fixed that, and the pair entered with guns drawn. 

Antique weapons decorated the otherwise bare walls. Drawers full of files stood next to a gun cabinet like inanimate guards. A single dirty window let in the setting sun and a breeze, but the room was dark and musty nonetheless. 

And on a leather chair, behind a mahogany desk, sat a terrifying absence of Henroin. Angel sighed and lowered his guns.

"Well, shit. Looks like pops already fucked off, da goddamn wuss. Ooh, he's got some gin!"

Angel sauntered over to the bottle on the desk, carelessly swinging his submachine guns like toys.

"Ya see any shotglasses? Ah, fuck it."

He unscrewed the lid and took an impressive gulp of the liquor, offering the remainder to an unimpressed Arackniss.

"Really? Drinking in a gunfight?"

"Hey, I don't see no Family in here! Besides, I ain't doin' dis shit sober."

Arackniss would have argued the point, but didn't have the time. Heavy footsteps from outside the office interrupted the conversation. 

Familliar footsteps.

Angel's sardonic grin faded. Smoke drifted into the room, bringing with it the scent of an expensive cigar. From the doorframe, a shadow loomed over them. Taller than Angel, darker than Arackniss, and more bulk than the two of them combined.

The room went quiet. The brothers turned to face a massive tarantula holding a Thompson in each of his six hands. His shadow blocked out the flickering lights. His scowl pierced their souls. 

And he was even bigger than they remembered.

Arackniss froze at the animosity that welled in his eyes. It wasn't the hot, blistering rage they both knew so well, but a cold and murderous hatred he reserved for his enemies. 

Angel didn't seem to share his fear. He took another swig before tossing the bottle aside, leering with decades of hatred.

"Aw, what'sa matter, pops? Don' like havin' others fuck up ya life?"

Henroin said nothing. Angel broke into a bitter grin, a sneer of thinly-veiled malice.

"Heh. Nothin' to say? Well, I got som--"

It all happened faster than Arackniss could react. Six submachine guns trained themselves on him and him alone. Angel reflexively ducked behind the thick mahogany desk, pulling his unresponsive brother with him. .45 hollow points burrowed into the thick, solid wood like a tsunami of lead. 

Henroin held the triggers down, emptying the drum magazines into the rapidly-disintegrating desk as he pressed forward. Angel fumbled through his pockets before producing a fist-sized, pink grenade. Jesus, did this guy own *anything* that wasn't pink?

He pulled the pin and let it cook for a second before tossing it over their cover. Henroin's gunfire was cut off by an explosion of pink smoke. Angel leapt over the desk, guns at the ready. Arackniss just stared numbly.

Henroin didn't have much height on Angel, but he was stronger by far. He ripped both Thompsons out of Angel's hands, tossing them across the office and out of reach. One hand went to hiss throat. Angel tried to kick him, only for another to grab his ankle. Angel choked out a mocking laugh.

"You call dat chokin'? I get choked worse den dis every--"

Angel didn't get to finish as Henroin flung him into a wall. The drywall behind him cracked. His vision flickered and went blurry. He struggled to stand, but couldn't find his footing. The room swam around him. He almost regretted that gin, but fuck it. He could still crack a joke.

"H-heh. Jus' like old times, eh?"

Henroin raised a Thompson, ready to turn the spider's drug-addled brains onto pulp. Angel closed his eyes and hoped that Molly would forgive him.

Then a glass bottle shattered against the tarantula's head.

Henroin staggered, raised a hand to his bleeding temple, and whipped around with a snarl. From behind the splintered desk, Arackniss raised his rifle with trembling hands. He fired off a shot, but it went wide. Fucking sloppy. He had no time to fire another before Henroin kicked the desk, sending it hurdling into Arackniss and trapping him against the wall. The gun fell from Arackniss's fingers, landing just out of his reach. 

Henroin rested a foot on the desk and pushed it against the struggling spider. Arackniss gasped for air as his midsection was slowly crushed. With a shaking hand, he drew a .45 from his jacket only for Henroin to smack it away like one of Molly's dolls from a young Angel Dust's hand. The giant demon leaned forward until his face was inches from his former son's. Arackniss saw his own terror reflected in eight crimson eyes.

"How long?"

Arackniss struggled to breathe, let alone reply. Henroin didn't seem to care.

"How long have you been planning this? Months? *Years?*"

Henroin's voice quaked with simmering animosity and contempt, but also something else. Something worse.

Sorrow. Heartbreak. Betrayal. An unwelcome pang of guilt echoed through Arackniss's heart. He didn't regret a single goddamn thing, but hearing the pain in his father's voice...

"Were you fucking the snake before the job? *Were you?!*

The simmer broke into a rolling boil, Henroin's voice raising to a pained, wrathful shout.

"Or were you planning it all out with your degenerate brother, waiting for-- for what?! What the fuck did you want? What did you have to gain?!"

Arackniss finally got enough air to speak. His voice was barely a croak, partly from remorse and partly from the giant fucking desk that was being pressed against his guts.

"It just... happened... I didn't want to leave. Please..."

Henroin buried his rage under a cold, hateful mask. Still begging for mercy, even after all he'd done. Arackniss wasn't just a traitor.

He was a fucking coward, too.

"So it was... an 'accident.'"

With minimal effort, he pushed the desk harder. Arackniss tried to cry out, but the air was gone from his lungs. Henroin stared him in the eyes with a bitter snarl.

" 'Oops.' "

He could feel his sternum begin to crack. His vision began to fade away. Fuck, what would Pent do without him? He imagined his boyfriend staring out the window, mourning another loved one. Except Arackniss wasn't getting into Heaven...

"Hey, pops."

Angel Dust's voice cut through the silence. Henroin turned to see him standing on shaking legs, braced against the wall. Clutched in one trembling hand was a .44 special, trained on the massive spider.

"Finish what ya start, ya sonuva bitch."

Four shots remained in the cylinder. Two went wide, one low, but the last found Henroin's side. The tarantula stumbled back with a grunt, catching himself on a bookcase and letting go of the desk. Arackniss's ribs crackled as he took a deep breath, but at least none were broken. He winced at the pain and began to extract himself. Ah shit, this was going to hurt in the morning. He didn't have time to reflect before Angel yanked him off his feet and toward the door.

"C'mon, jackass, get movin! He's almost up, and I'm outa ammo!"

Arackniss glanced back to see Henroin regaining his footing, gripping his wound with a single bloodied hand. Eight eyes flicked to the brothers, shining with malice. Arackniss barely had time to grab his rifle before the titanic tarantula swiveled a submachine gun toward the pair. A hail of bullets chased them out the door, turning drywall into dust and splintering the supports. By the time Henroin stepped out of his office, the two were long gone.

The mob boss surveyed the damage. Blood, bullet holes, the odd dent left by a mafioso getting his head bashed in. Nothing that couldn't be repaired. Henroin lumbered back into his ruined office to reload and recuperate.

Footsteps echoed from a distant corridor as the two intruders made their temporary escape. They faded away, limping and uneven, into the distance. They were injured, barely armed, and had long lost the element of surprise. They wouldn't last long.

Henroin sighed as he lit another cigar.

And the halls were quiet once more. 


	22. Chapter 22

  
"Holy *shit!* We fuckin' lived!"

Bruised and bloodied from Henroin's wrath, the two brothers clung to each other for support as they stumbled down the headquarters' halls. It seemed they were alone for the time, but still far from safe. Arackniss kept his rifle up, sweeping across the corridors with all the precision he could muster. He didn't share his brother's amusement. 

"We got one gun between us, we're barely walking, and this place is still crawling with the Family. Plus, now that they know we're here, surprise is out the fuckin' window." Arackniss shifted his weight and checked his last magazine before clicking it back into his rifle. "Simply put, we're one ambush away from getting turned to red mush. Now, I got six shots left in this mag. We better make 'em count."

There was a moment of silence as their situation sunk in. Angel gave his brother a half-smile and patted him on the shoulder. "Still, we don't make a half-bad team. 'M glad ya came along, Rakkie."

Arackniss afforded himself a little smile and leaned against a wall, still winded from the escape. At least things weren't beyond patching up. If they survived, anyway. "Yeah. Why didn't we do this sooner?"

Angel produced a crumpled pack of cigarettes, casually trying to light one with still-shaking hands. "Well, you'se bein' a dick 'til tonight. Now, let's find a gun locker so we can stock up n' kick ass. I still got a trick up my sleeve."

Arackniss met his brother's devilish grin with weary sigh. As much as he respected his Angel's skill, the guy was way too arrogant for his own good. And not the cute kind of arrogance that Pent sometimes (okay, always) had, but the get-yourself-killed kind. No, the get-yourself-*and-others*-killed kind. If he weren't under that dirtbag Valentino's protection, somebody would've erased him a long fucking time ago. Arackniss collected himself with a deep breath.

"We were armed to the teeth and Henroin still kicked our asses. I don't care what kind of 'trick' you have planned, we meet him again and we're screwed."

Arackniss's mind flashed with the memory of a huge wooden desk pressed against him. Henroin could've blown his head off right then and there if he wanted. It was like seeing a cat keep a mouse alive, just to bat it around for a while.

"Ey, Rakkie? Ya still dere?" 

Arackniss snapped out of the thought to see Angel waving a hand in front of his face. He took a second to pull himself together. "Sorry. I was just... Ah, forget it. Point is, we won't last another round against him, and I ain't planning on getting erased today."

Angel gave a bitter chuckle as he glanced at his phone. "Ya wanna get back to ol' double-dicks, huh?"

"*He has a fucking name!*"

Angel recoiled, just as surprised as Arackniss at the sudden outburst. "A'ight, Jesus. 'Sir Pentious.' I's just makin' a joke."

"No, it's alright. I, uh, shouldn't have snapped." There was an awkward silence as they tried to avoid each others' eyes. Then Angel broke it, of course.

"Whaddya even see in da guy? I mean, no offense, but..." it was hard not to lose his cool again. Maybe it was an innocent question, but it sure as Hell didn't feel that way coming from Angel. Arackniss buried his annoyance as deep as he could and put on a carefully controlled expression.

"He treats me good."

Angel tried not to scoff at his brother's 'innocence.' He'd been wined and dined countless times by countless men. Many of them seemed nice enough at first, but in the end each one wanted the same thing. He almost pitied Arackniss. Poor little shit was going to learn a harsh lesson when the snake got bored. 

There wasn't a single good man in Hell.

"...Dat it? He 'treats ya good?'" 

A hint of a smile began to form on Arackniss's lips, threatening to undermine his cool, controlled expression. What could he even say? Pent gave him what he didn't know he was missing. He took in some poor asshole with nothing to offer. He'd given Arackniss all the love and care he could ask for, no strings attached. If it weren't for Pentious, he'd still be under Henroin's thumb. He'd still be a tool, to be used instead of cared for. And the worst part was that he'd never have known anything different. There was a pause as Arackniss searched for the right words, but they escaped his grasp. No matter what he said, he couldn't do the man justice.

"...I guess I wasn't used to that."

Angel averted his eyes. Despite their differences, he knew exactly how his brother felt. He understood the desperation, the hope, and the feeling he once mistook for love. His tone lost all trace of levity and wit as a pair of heart-shaped glasses surfaced in his memory. 

"Yeah. I bought dat too, once."

Arackniss's stupid little grin just got wider. Ugh, what a sap. "If you knew him, you'd get what I mean."

Fuck it. If that's what he chose. Angel put on a cheeky grin and gave one more little jab at his brother. "So ya ain't just his sugar baby, huh?" 

Arackniss looked at him like he'd sprouted a dick on his forehead. "...The fuck's a 'sugar baby?'"

"Ya know, like--"

The conversation came to an abrupt end as muffled footsteps came from around a distant corner. There were more of them this time, at least a dozen slowly closing in on the brothers. The hallway was completely barren. No place to run, no place to hide, and no cover from the rain of bullets that would soon fall on them. Angel produced a bomb and wound up to throw. This one wasn't pink like the one he used on Henroin, but black and adorned with a white skull. Hopefully it would be more effective. Arackniss raised his rifle, hoping to take a few of the bastards with him.

Angel beat him to it, flinging the black grenade with impressive accuracy. It bounced off a corner and into the thick of the footsteps, prompting alarmed shouts that were quickly cut short. A blinding light, then a piercing roar, then the gut-churning stench of burning chemicals overwhelmed Arackniss. Pressure and heat washed over the brothers, almost singeing their hair and clothes. There were no screams. There was no time. 

There was only fire, and then nothing.

Arackniss didn't remember being knocked on his back. He tried to blink the spots from his eyes, his ringing ears drowning out all sound and head throbbing from the noise. He looked back at the hallway, vision still swimming. The destruction was terrible to behold. A chunk of the building's interior was just... *gone.* The ceiling, walls, and floor had been blasted away, leaving the supports scorched and bare. The surrounding carpets and wallpaper were consumed by slowly spreading fire. A few seconds passed before Arackniss could catch his breath, let alone speak.

"...Damn." It was a hell of a trick.

Angel flashed a devious grin. "Yeah, just don' get used to it. I only got one more a' dose, plus da four- no, three smokers."

Arackniss tried to clear his head and weigh their options. "Well, the good news is, we ain't double-dead yet. Bad news is that now everyone in the building knows where we are, and every Family goon in the city's gonna be rushing back to headquarters."

There was a moment of silence as the two caught their breath. Between them, they still had six rounds of ammo for Arackniss's rifle, three smoke bombs, and one more incendiary grenade. If their luck held out, they might last one more encounter. *If.* Arackniss clutched his aching ribs. The adrenaline couldn't keep up with his exhaustion for much longer.

"It's not too late to run, Angel. Molly doesn't need to lose two brothers today." Angel leaned back against the wall with a defeated sigh. His brother was right. The Family was weakened, and there would be plenty of chances to get revenge later. 

"Ugh. Yeah, fuck it. How do we get outa dis dump?"

"Let's see... Okay. We're on the second story, north side..." Arackniss rubbed a sore muscle and did some mental calculations. "There's a lounge nearby. It's got some windows that look over the street, if you don't mind a drop." And if nobody caught them, obviously. 

Angel pulled out his phone, giving it a cursory glance before shoving it back in his jacket. Eleven twenty-five, plenty of time. 

"...A'ight. Let's do dis."

...

Soon they reached the lounge, a vast and musty room with high ceilings and worn-down furniture. The formerly beige walls were stained yellow-brown from decades of cigarette smoke. Playing cards and beer cans lay haphazardly on thick wooden tables, abandoned mid-game in sudden panic. The only sounds were the humming ventilation and the muffled chaos of the city. Arackniss leaned over and gave an almost imperceptible whisper.

"All clear. Let's go."

They crept though the room, quiet as death. Every shadow promised a hidden gangster, every creaking floorboard threatened to give away their position. Sixteen eyes shot from corner to corner, shadow to shadow, one potential hiding spot to another. Arackniss strained to hear beyond his own hammering pulse, his ringing ears, and the hum of the room. Angel gripped each of his four remaining bombs with white knuckles and tried to control his breaths. They were so close to freedom. Just a mad dash to the window. Then, a muffled, metallic click. Then another. And another.

"Angel! Cover!"

They barely had time to flip over and scurry behind one of the heavy tables before a thunderous hail of lead descended on them. Almost all sound was drowned out beneath the clattering of automatic weapons. A few hit the table, burying themselves in the thick wood. The brothers sat hunched and ready, backs against their cover. Angel tried to look out from behind it, but a bullet zipped by and came dangerously close to ruining his perfect hair.

"Shit! Ya *said* all clear!"

Arackniss quickly leaned out to get a visual on the enemy, but all he could see was devastation. Bullets shredding furniture, shattering bottles, tearing through drywall. 

...Drywall?

"Jesus Christ, they're shooting through the wall!" Arackniss shouted over the chaos as the remaining gangsters fired blindly through studs and plaster. How the fuck was he supposed to handle this? He didn't have nearly enough ammo to shoot blind, and the table wouldn't hold out much longer. He shot a nervous glance at Angel, who was too busy checking his phone to notice. 

"Please tell me that firebomb of yours can blast through those walls."

"You bet, but dat's my last one. Emergencies only."

Arackniss glared him down, incredulous. "Seems like a *pretty fucking big* emergency to me!" he shouted over the din. Already, the drywall and plaster were beginning to chip away to reveal a few of the gunners. The good news was that he could see them. The bad news was that they could see the overturned table, and weren't *quite* as stupid as they looked. Arackniss tried to line up a shot before a storm of lead descended upon him. He ducked back behind cover...

...But not before a bullet found its mark.

It didn't hurt. At least, at first. It was just a dull impact, but he instantly knew what it was. He had felt it just before landing in Hell at nineteen, after a run-in with some rival gang. Arackniss looked down to the side of his chest to see a small hole in his suit jacket, slowly darkening with his fresh blood. He grabbed the wound and tried to apply pressure, but it was no use. The bullet had gone right through his side, inches from his lungs. It had probably splintered at least a rib or two, certainly some major veins. Even if it missed all his organs, he was on borrowed time.

"Ah, shit... Angel..."

"We just gotta hold out a bit longer, Rakkie! I got one more trick!"

A bullet finally ripped through the weakened table's edge inches away from Arackniss's shoulder. He tried to shrink down, become a smaller target before the degrading wood gave in. He reached over the table and fired into the general direction of Henroin's men, hoping for even one solid hit before the blood loss took him.

"Better be a fucking good trick..." he muttered, more to himself than his brother. Angel either didn't hear, or chose not to respond. He just lobbed a pink bomb neatly through the ever-widening gap, hoping to buy a few moments more. Despite choking and gagging on the neon smoke, the enemy held fast.

Another shot from Arackniss. Four rounds of ammunition left. Even if each one hit a target, there would be a dozen mafiosi left over. No trick could save them now. Arackniss closed his eyes, slumped against what remained of the table, and thought of Pentious as blood soaked through his suit. Angel felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out one more time. Slowly, his grin widened and his eyes flickered with malicious glee. "Ha! Dere we go!"

Then there was a rumble in the distance. A great mechanical growl that grew into a deafening roar as it drew ever closer, drowning out the city's noise and the screams of bystanders. Arackniss looked out a window and immediately saw the source. He stared through the window, transfixed and utterly terrified, as it drew near.

["...Holy shit."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4A1SiQkPqYM)

And then Cherri Bomb drove a motherfucking semi truck into the Family's headquarters.

The destruction was glorious to behold. The beastly machine crashed through the narrow streets, annihilating storefronts and forcing panicked pedestrians to leap out of the way or be crushed. The spidery brothers braced themselves as it barreled into the concrete building. Cherri jumped out at the last second before being obscured by a cloud of smoke. The cheaply-made walls (standard for Hell's construction) gave way almost instantly as the vehicle punched a hole through the outer wall and continued almost halfway through the building. As the foundations shook and the people within braced themselves, it seemed that nothing could possibly outweigh the carnage the massive eighteen-wheeler had wrought.

And then it exploded.

A cacophonous wave of noise and pressure blasted through the lower walls. The floor beneath their feet blew upward, sending gangster and brother alike into the air. Time seemed to slow as they fell with the floorboards and support beams. Despite the chaos, Arackniss could perceive everything in perfect clarity. Concrete crumbled from the exterior wall like a man-made landslide. The entire building trembled in a devastating aftershock, raining plaster and dust down on the collapsing room. The bullet-ridden walls gave in to show the panicking mafiosi desperately reaching for a handhold before being crushed by rubble.

They landed hard on the ground, covered in splinters and powdered concrete. Arackniss landed on his back causing blinding pain to shoot through his side. As he gasped for air and choked on dust, there was almost a moment of quiet, punctuated disoriented groaning and coughing. Smoke and dust billowed around them like hazy, lung-irritating curtains. Everything more than a few feet away was completely obscured. Angel was the first to collect his wits with an excited grin and a dazed chuckle. He stood with all the grace he could muster as Arackniss struggled to his feet. The duo stared as Cherri Bomb calmly strode into view, her silhouette emerging from the smoke and dust. She cracked her knuckles and grinned at the astonished brothers.

"...'Sup."

Arackniss was speechless. Angel wasn't.

"FUCK yeah! Knock em' dead!"

"Hey Angie, don't cut it so fucking close next time! You're lucky I got here before your asshole dad smeared you all over a wall!" Despite the scolding, her tone remained jovial. She tossed a couple pink grenades to her bestie. He caught them in midair with a devious, maniacal smile and got ready for a smackdown.

"Ha! No guarantees, bitch."

Leaning on a chunk of concrete, Arackniss struggled to clear his head. Reinforcements were on the way, no doubt. Would a few bombs really be enough to hold the Mob back? More importantly, could he even fight like this? Cherri interrupted his worrying with a hard glare.

"Looks like we got a lil' rat. You playing nice, sleazebag?" She cast a disdainful sneer toward Arackniss.

"Who, Rakkie? Oh, he's pullin' his own weight an' den some. Showed up outa the blue, jus' ta help. Right?" Angel gave his brother a playful nudge on the shoulder, accidentally hitting a massive bruise. Arackniss recoiled, but neither other demon noticed.

"Huh. I guess it explains why this jackoff showed up." She jerked her thumb back toward a massive, ovoid shape in the distance. Obscured behind a shroud of smoke, it drifted ever closer with the far-off roar of turbine engines.

"Is that...?" Despite everything else, Arackniss broke into a grin as a familiar voice blared from the airship's loudspeakers.

"*Attention, Pentagram City Mafia: your reckoning has come.*"

...

Sir Pentious looked over the devastation, searching the smoke and rubble for his spider. And there he was, barely visible through the dust, staring up in awe along with two other silhouettes and broken chunks of concrete. Limping. Bleeding. *Hurt.*

Pentious gritted his fangs, gripping the Medusa's controls with white knuckles. With all the restraint he could muster, he switched on the loudspeaker system (perfect for gloating about his inevitable victory) and made his announcement to the enemy. 

"Attention, Pentagram City Mafia: your reckoning has come." He paused to take a breath and think of his next words before continuing. "You have clung to your reputation for decades, living off your hoarded wealth like flies on rotting garbage. And to think you were once the 'terror of the streets,' the 'kings of the underworld!' Oh, how far you've fallen."

As the airship approached the building, the gale of its turboprops began to drive away the smoke. Rubble and broken supports spilled out of a massive hole several meters wide. The rest of the structure seemed intact, save for the windows, shattered by the prior blast. What could have caused this? No matter. He could (and would) do *far* worse.

"Your glass armor has been shattered, you old and wounded beasts. Your tender flesh is bare and bleeding, ripe for a predator's fangs. Tonight, nature shall take its course." 

He powered up the Immolation Beam (patent pending) and aimed at the building, as far from Arackniss as he could. His face curled into a savage grin as his finger hovered of the the trigger.

"Tonight, the weak shall submit to the strong!"

...

Three demons stared together in awe as the vessel's enormous cannon tore through the headquarters. Concrete walls were obliterated and scorched. Brilliant purple blazed through the plumes of smoke as fires raged across the remains of the structure. The deafening roar signaled not just the destruction of the stronghold, but the end of the Pentagram City Mob.

Then, a few short moments after the devastation began, the cannon went quiet. The blaze cast a warm glow over the trio, barely illuminating the enormous airship. Cherri broke the silence with a laugh. "Holy shit. Gotta hand it to the old man, he's scary when he wants to be." 

Arackniss stared at the machine as his vision began to narrow. Maybe the airship wasn't such a bad idea after all. He had to admit that for all his (charming) ego, Pent knew what he was doing. Ah, Pent. Who was always there for him. Who was the best engineer in the city. Who had fixed all the problems that Arackniss was too weak to handle. The world began to fade, but Arackniss willed himself to remain upright, slumping on a chunk of concrete wall. Soon the airship's bulk loomed over them, lowering itself in front of the three. 

"Rakkie! Are you...?" He didn't have to finish. Arackniss staggered over into Pent's arms, smearing blood on the serpent's suit. 

"...Pent?"

"It's okay. You're okay. You'll be okay."

And it *was* okay. He got to see his man again, even if he'd had let Pent down one last time. People were talking, but he could barely hear them. It didn't matter, anyway. They'd be alright without him, just like they had been before. Arackniss closed his eyes and tried to enjoy Pent's warm embrace.

"Holy shit, Rakkie! Ya took a bullet? Why da fuck didn't ya say so?!"

"Whoa. Glad that wasn't you, Angie."

"Rakkie? Rakkie! Can you hear me...?"

The voices became white noise, then faded into nothing. Everything went quiet. Everything went numb. 

Then everything went dark.

...

After the airship departed in a rush, Angel and Cherri were left alone in the smoldering wreckage. Cherri put a hand on her best friend's shoulder, and he placed one on hers. He barely managed a weak laugh. 

"Holy shit, Cherri. You really pulled my nuts outa dat fire."

"Ha! Hell yeah, I did. You owe me a solid, Angie."

Angel tried to unclench his muscles and leaned on a ruined wall. He felt a lump in his jacket that he'd almost forgotten. A smile considered crossing his face, but must have changed its mind. 

"Huh. I never got ta use dat last grenade."

He spoke mostly to himself, but Cherri looked quizzically back. She didn't know that Angel had been saving it for Henoin. Hell, he'd been saving it since the beginning of his assault. Looked like 'Edgelord' beat him to it, though. Fucking snake. That was supposed to be *his* victory, and that asshole stole it. Angel sighed. What was he going to do now?

"Eh, fuck it. I'll save it for someone special."

The pair walked off to find a place to rest up and recuperate, but Angel couldn't stop thinking about the snake's face. He genuinely feared for Arackniss. He *cared* about him, not just as an asset or a toy, but as a loved one. That was something no man had ever done for Angel. He didn't want to believe it, but his brother had something Angel could only dream of. 

A tear rolled down his face. Cherri saw it and immediately pulled him into a hug. He squeezed back as the tears began to flow once more. He tried to focus on Cherri's comfort, but one question still stuck in his mind.

Where the fuck was *his* happy ending?

...

A red sun rose on a city in turmoil. Already, vultures were picking at the scraps of an empire. Battles were fought, sinners erased, wealth and territory were split among combatants. Blood flooded the streets, sweeping up fighters and bystanders alike in the hot, red torrent.

A tall, broad-shouldered demon lay bleeding in the ruins of his empire. Soon, someone would come by and put him out of his misery. As footsteps drew near, he closed his eyes and made his peace.

Two sinners, almost siblings, walked down an alley in silence. What was there to say?

And in the middle of it all, a black airship sped off to the Serpent's Lair, carrying precious cargo. It would all be okay. The pilot could make it home in time. It would all be okay. It would all be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh damn, it's been a while. I've been working on his chapter (and following ones) since before chapter 21 came out, but university's been keeping me away from the craft. I hope to have chapter 23 out soon, *hopefully* by the end of the month. 23 will probably be the final chapter, but no guarantees.   
> Thank you all for reading, even after the wait! You mean a lot to me.


	23. Chapter 23

The Serpent's Lair buzzed with excitement. Spirits flowed out of numerous bottles and into dozens of rowdy gangsters, filling the luxurious penthouse lounge with chaotic shouts and roaring laughter. Almost every demon in the spacious, ornate room was living it up and cutting loose. 

Almost.

Arackniss leaned against a wall, far away from the crowd. He loosely held a glass of scotch, taking the occasional sip as he surveyed the room. Parties were never really his thing. Too loud, too many people talking at once. But if a bit of noise was the price of victory, he was happy to pay it.

Months of planning had come to fruition only a few hours before. The Family had raided a rival gang's storehouse while their newest ally, a kingpin called 'Sir Pentious,' hovered high above in his giant blimp. When they'd secured the location, the snake blew a hole in the roof and lifted off with the goods: an entire vault of gold, equipment, and cash. They split the profits and met up at the snake's hideout, teaching some goons a valuable lesson on keeping all their loot in one place.

Arackniss's lip twitched in what could almost be called a smile as he took a measured sip. Even splitting the haul, they'd made a fortune. Who would have guessed that some crackpot inventor could do so much for the cause? But his thoughts were soon interrupted by an intoxicated demon's rambling.

"...Then Sam, the crazy motherfucker, shot 'em aaaall down *in two seconds!* Six guards, and they couldn't even draw their guns! And then- get this- then Sam says: 'Now, those guys must’ve had some *damn* good life insurance!'"

The small crowd howled with laughter at the gangster's story. Last time he told it, there were only two guards. How many would there have been next time? Nobody called him out, though. They were far too cheerful to care (and too drunk to notice). Even Arackniss's normally grouchy father wore a proud smile. He stood, stumbled, and raised his whiskey high, the other mobsters following suit. Sir Pentious held up his champaign with a fuzzy grin, letting it froth all over the floor as Henroin began to speak.

"Gentlemen, what we've done here is nothing short of extraordinary. One month ago, if you'd told me that flying contraption could lift the vault right out of the Gadzooks' hideout? Well, I'd have called you a madman."

He *had* called Sir Pentious a madman, actually (not to his face, of course). In fact, he'd been skeptical of the entire venture until the snake 'demonstrated' his weaponry on a nearby building. It took a week for Arackniss's ears to stop ringing, and people halfway across the city were probably still finding shattered bricks in their gutters.

"...But here we are, celebrating the biggest haul in forty years! Here's to a long and fruitful partnership!"

A drunken cheer rose from the massed criminals. Even Arackniss caught a smile creeping onto his face. He thought about keeping it in, but what the hell. If there was ever a time to let loose, it was now. After years of hardship, the Family was on the rise again! The snake's tech, the Mafia's manpower, there was nothing they couldn't do. Hell, they'd rule the city in a month, tops! All thanks to one mad serpent, who was currently trying to explain the workings of an 'arcane reactor turbine' to a barely-conscious mafioso.

He took another sip, watching the slithery demon over the brim of his glass. As handy as the snake was, Arackniss didn’t trust him. There was just something about him that put Arackniss on edge, something that stirred in the forgotten depths of his brain. Maybe it was the way he rambled on about technical nonsense, 'capacitors' this, 'aetherial' that. Maybe it was how he dressed, the fact that that clearly practiced that maniacal laugh, or maybe it was that weird fucking hat. Maybe it was because he tried so hard to be evil, like he just wanted to fit in...

The spider tensed, suddenly aware he'd been staring. He averted his eyes toward a painting on the wall, pretending to appreciate the art as he anxiously mulled the feeling over. Was the snake a threat? No, these weren't the tingling nerves of imminent danger. It was something else, something *deeper.* He silently slouched back and raised the glass to his lips, trying not to cast another suspicious stare.

The snake had apparently taken an interest in him, too. Each one of those crimson eyes had been stealing the occasional glance since the partnership began. If this had been anyone else, Arackniss would have told him to (or made him) fuck off, but Sir Pentious was a business partner. The only option was to put up with the attention, whether he liked it or not.

And speaking of attention, it looked like the snake had gotten bored of Henroin's speech and decided to slither over. Arackniss downed the rest of his drink with a liquor-grimace. Fuck it, he'd have to loosen up for this...

...

Sudden movement forced Arackniss back to consciousness, if only briefly. Two shaking arms held him tight to a warm chest, lurching with each panicked breath. He forced his eyes open and willed them to focus. The edges of his vision faded into a black tunnel, Pent's crimson eyes shining like a light at the end. He looked so afraid, so utterly alone...

"Pent..."

Arackniss tried to reach out as he was gently placed on a cold, hard surface. Pent's voice quivered as he spoke, trying to project confidence he clearly didn't have.

"It's alright, Rakkie. I- I'll get you patched up. Just wait here."

And then he was gone, rushing off for bandages and antiseptic. Warmth leaked from Arackniss's midsection, bringing with it a creeping numbness. The tunnel's black edges encroached in on his vision until only a speck of light remained, bringing with it a wave of nausea and a deep, biting cold. Pent's face filled his mind, warped with fear and uncertainty. Arackniss, you idiot. How could you do this to him? How could you put Angel over Pent? Pent, who you loved. Pent, who loved you back. Pent, who didn't deserve to lose someone else...

Then the speck of light went out, and darkness took over once again.

...

Sir Pentious sipped his champaign as Henroin prattled on, praising the team for their work and Sir Pentious for his mechanical genius. He could have praised Pentious a bit more, but it would suffice.

Pentious allowed his attention to wander, idly gazing around the crowded room and the rowdy criminals within. He was hardly a socialite, and parties were hardly his forte. Too many people to keep in line. But if that was what it took to keep these thugs in his employ, he could manage a night of chaos. Even if some drinks were spilled on the carpet. And on the furniture. And even the *walls*...

One gangster was more... *reserved,* however. In a far-off corner, a small, dark spider sipped his drink and avoided Sir Pentious's gaze. He'd caught the serpent's eye months ago, when the planning first began. This one wasn't just some thug, bawdy and brutish with more bullets than brains. No, this one was a professional, a man of elegance and taste. A shadowy, keen-eyed stranger who watched over the meetings, never saying a word. Dark, mysterious, and deadly; a dangerous combination.

It would be rude to stare, but the serpentine sinner still snuck the occasional glance despite himself. As Henroin's speech concluded to applause and joyful hollering, Sir Pentious gathered his wits, finished his wine, and slithered over to try his luck.

As he approached, the mobster's eight keen eyes snapped to him, looking him up and down, instinctively sizing him up and analyzing him. They were the eyes of a fine-tuned killer, dedicated to his craft. He spoke before Sir Pentious could open his mouth.

"You, ah, need something?"

The mysterious mobster showed no sign of emotion, save for veiled suspicion. Luckily, Sir Pentious couldn't be deterred by such things as a complete lack of interest! He needed to 'break the ice,' as one would say. He puffed out his chest and spoke with all the bravado he could muster.

"Did you see the airship that lifted the vault? I made it."

"Uh..." The handsome mobster stared back, confusion slowly taking over his face. A promising start!

"The airship, that is. Not the vault. Had I designed the vault, it would have been unliftable!" Pentious stuck out a hand with his most nonthreatening and approachable smile, unswayed by the stranger's stunned stare. "Sir Pentious! But I'm sure you knew that."

After a moment's hesitation, the spider accepted the handshake. Ooh, firm grip.

"...Arackniss."

Arackniss? *He* was Arackniss, Henroin's son, who sniped the watchmen from half a kilometer away? Sir Pentious's heart skipped a beat. It was a dangerous game, flirting with the boss's son. But that just made him all the more *alluring*...

Pentious snapped back to reality, suddenly aware that he'd been staring. He looked away, but couldn’t find anything else to look at. "So, um... you're a sniper, correct?"

A ghost of a proud smile appeared on Arackniss's face, quickly snuffed out by feigned indifference. "Best in the Mob."

Ah, something to discuss! Sir Pentious had no experience with sniping, but he knew one thing that might be of interest. 

"Have you ever fired a laser rifle?"

"A *laser* rifle?" The spider perked up, interest clearly piqued. Oh, yes. This may prove to be a worthwhile encounter after all.

...

Sir Pentious tore the medical room apart in search of more gauze. The first priority was getting the bleeding under control, then he could scan for organ damage, shattered bones, or any other complications. After that, he'd have to wait. Pent cursed himself for not having blood at the ready for a transfusion. If he failed, whatever happened to Rakkie would be his fault. But he wouldn't fail. There was no chance of that. None at all. Everything would be fine.

He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he rushed back. There was barely time to dress the wound before rushing back to the Lair, and it showed. The thin gauze was already soaked through with blood. But it didn't matter. He could do this.

Most of the time, the medical room was used for his own injuries, major or minor, but today it had a much greater purpose. Arackniss lay on the metal table, still and silent but for the occasional shiver or twitch. His eyelids occasionally fluttered to briefly reveal an unseeing stare. Shallow breaths passed through his now-blue lips, almost imperceptible. If one didn't know better, they might say he was...

No. Sir Pentious wasn't even going to entertain that thought. He began to apply more layers of dressing to the wound, wincing at the dark red seeping out. Blood didn't normally upset him, this was Hell after all, but it was *Arackniss's* blood. He tried not to think about it.

He gave a soft sigh as he worked. Why did the spider do this to himself? But Arackniss didn't answer his silent plea. He only twitched as a final layer of gauze covered his abdomen. Pentious tried to focus on the task, but couldn't help but silently beg the spider to hold out just a little longer.

Just a little longer...

...

"...This lever here?"

"No, no. That's the aperture control. The power switch is the one with the blue band near the tip. No, not that one."

The bulky weapon was surprisingly light in Arackniss's hands, but hardly easy to use. A mess of gauges and blinking lights covered the back along with too many levers and dials to count. He turned it over, squinting through his heavily tinted safety goggles as he searched in vain for the right switch. Sir Pentious stood (is it really standing without legs?) to the side, trying hard to remain patient.

A cold evening gust pierced the spider's suit, making his hair stand on end. The penthouse balcony was exposed to the elements on three sides, but the view was well worth it. Skyscrapers' shadows carved dark gouges in the setting sunlight, the smoggy atmosphere lit up with deep red rays. He might have enjoyed the scenery if he could fucking *see it.*

"I can't see a damn thing through these goggles. Let me just-" He reached up to remove the dark eyewear, but the scaly kingpin swatted his hand away with astonishing speed. Arackniss rubbed the sore fingers, glaring from behind the barely-transparent plastic. He resisted the urge to throw a punch in return, fearful of ruining the Family's new alliance. Besides, it wouldn’t be worth facing his father's retaliation. Arackniss kept his cool, but he wasn't fucking pleased about it.

"No. The safety goggles must stay on at all times. Standard procedure."

The snake wasn't kidding, either. He was covered head to tail in customized safety gear, each of his eyes hidden behind its own dark bubble of plastic. At first, Arackniss wasn't sure if he looked terrifying or ridiculous. He quickly settled on the latter after Pentious dropped the laser rifle on his own tail, letting out an undignified yelp in the process.

"Alright, fine. Jesus. Is it this one...?"

"No, that controls the heat vent. Here, let me..."

Before Arackniss could react, Sir Pentious was behind him, guiding his hand to the right switch. Absolutely nothing stirred in the depths of his soul. It did not awaken any part of himself he'd long since buried. It was a perfectly normal interaction, and Arackniss pushed any notion otherwise back to the very back of his mind where it belonged. He adjusted his grip according to the snake's instructions. "That one?"

"Yes. Go ahead and flip it."

He did so and the rifle hummed to life. A thrill rippled from his belly, up his spine, and into the primal core of his brain. This machine, this maelstrom of light and death, was the most beautiful gun he'd ever seen or held. Fuck, he could swear his pants felt a little tighter already.

"Impressive, is it not?"

Arackniss pried his gaze away from the laser rifle and toward Sir Pentious, who grinned proudly back. There was something sinister behind his smile, a deep and savage lust for destruction and the machines that caused it. Despite how he'd felt about the snake, something clicked. He just... *understood* the guy. A bit, anyway. Luckily, the serpent interrupted before things got any more sentimental.

"It's ready when you are." Pentious had suppressed his prideful smile, covering it with a thin layer of polite indifference, but the gleam in his eyes remained. Arackniss snapped his attention back to the gun, aiming at a faraway street sign. "Craven Street." He slowly squeezed the trigger, savoring every millisecond before--

***ZAP!!***

There was a violet flash and a wave of heat. The distant sign was obliterated in an instant, splattering molten metal onto the sidewalk. Arackniss would've expected a hard kick from the weapon, but it barely twitched in his grip. Perfect precision, perfect aim, devastating power. The spider wasn't aware of the sharp-toothed maniacal grin that was practically splitting his face in two until after he lowered the weapon.

There was silence for a moment, punctuated only be Arackniss's heavy breaths and pounding heart. The cold air did nothing to chill his hot blood. All was good. All was right.

"I take it you're satisfied?"

Sir Pentious leaned in, eager for the spider's thoughts (or praise, more likely). Aracknis turned toward him with fire in his eyes and a grin on his lips.

"Oh, fuck the Hell *yes.*"

The serpent cleared his throat, taken aback by his primal glee. "Um, good. Let's head back. A host shouldn't keep his guests waiting."

Arackniss reluctantly handed the laser back to Sir Pentious. If the partnership lasted, maybe he'd get to use one again. The thought made his heart skip. But that train of thought was interrupted by long, flowing hair (hood?) and a slim waist distracting him as the serpent headed back to the party. Hell, maybe a laser wasn't the *only* thing he'd get out of a partnership...

He broke his stare with a wince. No, he wasn't like this. He was just...

Just what? He stood motionless on the balcony, as if frozen by the chill air. There it was again. That leviathan feeling stirred in the darkest corner of his brain, then rose up until it towered above him, refusing to sink back down. He couldn't escape it. He couldn't deny it. As he took a slow step through the door, then another, Arackniss finally realized what he should have known all along.

He was in serious fucking trouble.

...

[Pentious leaned over the table, looking over Arackniss's unconscious body.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhIaeMiL88I) The injury was wrapped. An IV tube of (hopefully) lifesaving drugs stuck out of his arm. The bullet had missed most of his vitals, but the blood loss was severe. He gently clasped two of Rakkie's hands, leaving the rest to dangle over the edge of the hospital-style bed. Sir Pentious had done all he could. Now, only the hand of fate would decide if Arackniss saw another day.

Arackniss’s eyelids twitched, and he broke the silence with a feeble groan. Pent squeezed his hands tighter with a gasp, launching a flurry of anxious questions the spider’s way before he could stop himself.

"Rakkie! Can you hear me? You aren't bleeding internally, are you? Do you have any brain damage? Are you--"

Arackniss interrupted by lurching over the edge of his bed and retching on the floor. His vision swam, his face was numb, and he clung to consciousness by a thread, but he was awake. Unfortunately. He tried to focus on the soft hands that held two of his own, but nausea continued to pound away in his skull. 

“Oh, Rakkie…”

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder as Arackniss flopped back onto the pillow. His head was somehow both heavy and light, spinning around the ceiling even while pinned to the cushion. He might not have been erased, but this didn’t feel far off.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Pent.”

“It’s alright, love. I should have brought a basin, something for you to, um…”

“No. I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

“...What?”

Arackniss took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. “...I was stupid. Stupid to pick a fight with the Family, stupid to risk my life for Angel, stupid to leave you behind.”

“Rakkie…”

Arackniss slipped out of Pent’s grasp, weakly burying his face in four hands as he curled up on his uninjured side. His vision was blurring and his head felt lighter by the second. There was so much left to say, but did he even have time?

“Fuck, I… You give me so much and I just keep fucking up and pissing it away. You deserved better from me. Better *than*--”

He didn’t get the chance to finish as the serpent gently pulled him close to his trembling chest. Arackniss could feel the hot tears running down into his hair.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut *up.* I love you, God damn it, I love you.” Pentious’s chest heaved with a shuddering inhale. “Please, please don’t do this to yourself.”

“But it’s true, Pent. I’m sorry, but-”

“Then don’t do it to *me.*”

As Arackniss’s consciousness began to fade, Pent held him close and his words faded into a pained whisper.

“I love you. Even if you don’t.”

Tears began to well in Arackniss’s eyes. It really was that simple, wasn’t it? He loved Pent. Pent loved him. That was all that mattered.

He tried to hold onto that thought for as long as he could.

…

That night, after Henroin and his mafiosi passed out on the couches and floor, a lone spider stared at the ceiling as the room spun around him. What was he going to do about… everything? The snake? The partnership? *Himself?*

His eyes flicked toward a serpentine sinner draped over a couch and staring off into space. The snake-- *Sir Pentious,* might as well start using his name-- was still awake, but far from sober. Well, that made two of them.

He took a long look at his father, unconscious and sprawled across the sofa. A man who could do anything he pleased to whoever he wanted. Arackniss remembered all the orders he’d carried out, all the perfect shots he’d taken, and all the hard work he’d done for his father’s gain. Yeah, he was loyal. Probably the most loyal guy in the Mob. But what the fuck had he gotten out of it all?

Arackniss stood up with a sigh and began to stumble toward the serpent. Fuck it, why not do what he wanted for once? Nobody had to find out. It would just be one night.

What was the worst that could happen?

…

In a cold room in the Serpent’s Lair, two sinners held each other in silence.

It was funny, in a way. In almost a hundred years of existence, Arackniss had found plenty of things to die for. The Family, his own glory, the thrill of battle, all were good enough reasons for him. But now that he faced his final death, he found something to live for. He would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. Instead, he feebly squeezed Pentious's hand and tried to think of the love they'd shared. If he didn't make it, and this was all the time he had, he'd make the best of these last few moments. It was all he could do.

Neither knew just how long they stayed there, soaked in Arackniss's blood and Pentious's tears. Neither dared let go of the other. All they could do was hold each other until the tears ran out. Until the spilled blood went cold.

Until Arackniss closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. Over two and a half months. I'm sorry for not getting this out sooner. Life got in the way, but some of it's my fault, too. Next chapter's going to be the last one. I'll try to get it out more quickly than this, but that's not much of a guarantee now, is it? Thank you all for being patient and for reading my fic!


	24. Chapter 24

“Well, *I* think it looks good on you.”

“Hm… But is it fashionable? Do the *youth* wear long coats?”

Molly gave her most patient smile as Sir Pentious nervously looked over his reflection in the full-length mirror. For someone used to custom-tailored suits, he was adapting quite well to the upper-middle class clothing store. Not quite *perfectly,* but well enough.

“It’s not about what ‘the youth’ wear. It’s about finding a style that works for you. And having fun, of course!” It wasn’t the first time she’d told him that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Oh, well.

“Well, I *do* like the detailing…” Sir Pentious looked over his reflection before glancing over for approval. “Perhaps I should- no, I’ll keep this one. It suits my *ssstyle.*” 

He emphasized ‘ssstyle’ with a grin and a tug of the lapels. To be honest, he looked like a massive dork. In a charming way, of course. Molly gave an approving nod anyway, paying him little attention as she took in the sparse crowd of the clothing store. Same tacky decor, same overpriced goods, same apathetic security. Everything else was different now, but the Daemon’s Closet was her little island of familiarity. 

The fall of the Mob had left Pentagram City in an uproar for the past week, rival factions waging bloody wars over the empire’s former wealth and territory. She was barely associated with the ‘business,’ but nobody was safe from the aftershock. And then there was her family. What was left of it, anyway...

Sir Pentious must have seen her smile fading, since he rushed to break the silence. “And how is Angel Dust? Still raising Hell, I trust?”

“Hm? Oh, he’s doing… better, I think. He’s staying in some kind of ‘happy hotel?’” 

Molly tried to keep her smile, but it was rapidly slipping away. Truth be told, Angel was no better off than before. He still worked for that ‘Valentino’ slimeball, still got into fights, and still took drugs. Lots of drugs. Molly repressed a sad sigh.

“He doesn’t seem that *happy* about it, though. He says they don’t want him misbehaving, not that it stops him. Hell, he’s no saint, but he deserves better, you know?”

Pentious tried hard not to let his discomfort show as he tried on a bowtie. “Um, I see. And your father?” 

And there went the last of her cheer. Henroin had been despondent since she fished him out of the HQ’s rubble and brought him back to her apartment. He barely spoke, preferring to sit around and watch the news with a vacant stare. Even getting him to eat was a challenge. As monstrous as he’d been, it hurt to see her father like this.

“Same as before. He’ll make it, but probably wishes he wouldn’t.” 

“Ah. I see. Very, um...” Sir Pentious anxiously adjusted his hat and tried to think of some way to steer the conversation toward less depressing subjects. Molly stepped in to alleviate his suffering.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” She put a hand on his shoulder, as gentle as she could. Last week had been hard for everyone.

“Fairly well, considering the... circumstances. I’ve been working on redesigns to the Medusa’s aethereal capacitor, primarily adjusting the magnetic coils and whatnot. But mostly, of course, I’ve been taking care of… Oh! Speak of the Devil!”

The changing room door opened, and out stepped Arackniss. 

He looked almost the same as ever. Almost. One of his left hands grasped a cane to help with his newly-acquired limp. Pentious said the wound had given him some kind of nerve damage, but didn’t elaborate. Rakkie could take a hit and keep running, but there was only so much damage a demon could suffer before it left something permanent. 

“How do I look? Is red my color?”

Rakkie straightened his tie, turning slightly to give the other two a better look. He’d chosen a burgundy suit with subtle goldenrod accents, and *damn* did he wear it well. Despite the injury, Arackniss had the same air of mystery and professionalism as always. 

Looking closer, though, Molly saw something else. Where he’d once been tense, always waiting for a fight, he now seemed… tired. Old, even. She tried not to let on how much it worried her. Arackniss was a tough one, and Sir Pentious seemed like a perfect gentleman (a far cry from the cackling madman she’d seen on the news). He could take good care of her brother, surely.

“...I’ll take your stunned silence as a ‘yes.’” He allowed himself a hint of a grin and glanced toward Pent, who was trying (unsuccessfully) to hide a blush. Oh yeah, red was his color, alright. His sister seemed… distracted, though.

“...Molly? Something wrong?”

She snapped out of her thoughts and put on a gentle smile. “Oh, no. You look great, Rakkie.”

“Well… alright. Let me know when you-” He stopped as a figure in the crowd caught his eye. A lanky spider in a leather jacket. 

“Wait here.”

“Where are you going, Rakkie?”

“I have to meet a friend.”

...

The best thing about having six arms, Vincent figured, was that people only expected him to have two, maybe four. But six? No way. If nothing else, it made shoplifting a helluva lot easier.

“Holy shit. Vincent?”

Vincent jumped, a package of ill-gotten socks falling out of his jacket as he spun around. It wasn’t the voice of a pissed-off employee. This was someone who, in the wrong context, was infinitely more terrifying.

“Oh. Uh, heh. Hi, Arackniss.”

“Hey, Vincent.”

There was a pause as they each avoided eye contact, neither knowing what to say. Vincent broke the silence.

“Uh, nice suit. Red looks… pretty good on you. Yeah.”

“...Thanks.”

Another pause.

“So, Vincent... what have you been up to?”

Vincent shifted, trying hard to think of something other than the building his former associate (and other powerful figures) had fucking leveled a week ago. The same associate who’s plans had been ruined by Vincent’s carelessness...

“Oh, you know, uh, just, just some odd jobs… uh, stealing, mainly. That sort of thing.” He tried to lean on a rack of clothing, only to misjudge the distance and nearly fall over. Arackniss politely pretended not to notice.

“Theft, huh? You seem to have a knack for it,” Arackniss said, ignoring the pair of shoplifted sweatpants hanging from Vincent’s jacket.

“Haha! I know, right? Been doing it since I was four.” Arackniss found that hard to believe, but it didn’t matter. He was done with small talk.

“Look, I…” He took a moment to find the right words. “It wasn’t your fault. I asked too much of you. And I acted like an asshole when you were just doing your best.”

A note of concern shone in Vincent’s eyes, as if his former business partner were about to berate him once again. Instead, Arackniss continued with a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

There was another pause as Vincent took in the apology. Eventually, he nodded gravely.

“It’s alright, man. I didn’t hold up my end of the deal, so I guess it evens out, you know?” His frown disappeared as he broke into a chuckle. “Just glad I got out before you shot up HQ!”

“Heh. Yeah, good point.” Out of the corner of his eye, Arackniss noticed Molly waving him over. 

“Anyway, looks like I gotta go. You stay safe, all right?”

“Uh, yeah, no problem, man. It was... good seeing you.”

“Yeah. You too.”

And then he walked off, leaving Vincent alone with his thoughts and some soon-to-be-stolen clothes. Of all the former bosses he had, Arackniss was now his favorite.

…

That evening, Sir Pentious waited in their massive bed, gazing at Arackniss’s bare back through the bathroom’s open door. The spider had a nightly ritual. Disrobe, brush his teeth, stretch, and finally curl up in Pent’s massive coils. It was the best part of the night. Well, sometimes the *second* best, but it was always up there.

“Are you almost finished, darling? I’m getting *so* cold and lonely…” He gave a dramatic shiver, letting the bedsheets slide ever-so-slightly down his chest. Not *too* far, though. He wasn’t lying about the cold.

“Jersht a shercern!” Arackniss mumble-shouted through a mouthful of toothpaste and bristles. Pent leaned in to admire the view as he bent over the sink to spit. Despite the past week’s recuperation, the assassin had kept his impressive physique. Pentious’s eyes swept over his toned back, soon landing on a tightly-wrapped patch of gauze.

Sir Pentious had never studied medicine formally, but decades in Hell had taught him plenty about treating wounds (mostly his own). He’d learned the hard way that severe wounds require rest. In other words, not *insisting on going out while injured.*

Pent shifted between the sheets as he watched Arackniss stretch his limbs and lumber over to the massive bed. To be fair, Pentious was no stranger to recklessness. He’d battled overlords, taken countless beatings, and had more than a few inventions explode in his face. Compared to some of the things they’d each done, going to the shops with an abdominal wound was tame. But even so…

Soft fluff greeted his scales as a warm body nestled in his coils, pulling a blanket over them both. Rakkie’s head rested on his chest, hair just barely brushing his chin. For that moment, everything was all right. The chaos of the city was distant and quiet. The Mob would never threaten them again. There were no turf wars, no enemies, no Heavenly Exterminators. Only peace, warmth, and Rakkie.

Pentious sighed as he gently traced a clawed finger over his lover’s bandage. If only things were that simple. He spoke in hardly more than a whisper, barely audible over the muffled noise of the city.

“Does it still hurt?”

Arackniss hesitated, bit back his feelings, and gave a weak smile. Pent’s heart sank. Not this again...

“Getting used to it.”

“...That wasn’t my question, Rakkie.”

Arackniss’s shoulders slumped, and he looked up at Sir Pentious. “Well… fuck it. Can I ask you something? And don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Of course.”

“Am I gonna heal, or will I be like this forever?”

“I don’t know, Rakkie.”

The silence continued, and Pentious felt the spider clutch him just a little tighter. He squeezed back (avoiding the wound) and placed a gentle kiss on top of Rakkie’s head.

“But I love you either way, of course.”

“Thanks, Pent.”

“Besides, the Medusa has room for a dedicated gunner…”

The corner of Arackniss’s mouth twitched, and his chest jumped with an amused exhale. “Seems like you can shoot fine by yourself.”

Pent was undeterred. “Well… how about ‘negotiations?’ I wouldn’t mind a strong, intimidating mafioso by my side when I’m making a deal!”

“The injury, Pent. Can’t fight if it always hurts.” Any trace of joy faded from Arackniss’s voice, replaced with tempered sorrow. 

“Oh… yes. I’m sorry, Rakkie.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I’m just being st-” A look from the serpent cut him off. “Sorry, Pent. It’s just that... I still feel so *small,* sometimes. You know?”

Arackniss slowly sat up, straight-backed, and stared into the past. “Once, when people said my name, they said it in awe. In *fear.*” 

A faint grin slipped onto his face, and his eyes were clouded with memories. “I shot first, and I shot last. I was indomitable. I was *death.*”

Then his smile faded, his shoulders dropped, and the blood-soaked nostalgia drained from his eyes. He looked to Pent, face lined with worry.

“Who am I now?”

A pair of scaly arms answered him, wrapping around his body with a gentle squeeze. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to share that much. But, sharing was a good thing, wasn’t it? Getting the feelings out, or something? It’s what Molly would tell him to do. He rested his chin on Pent’s shoulder and returned the hug. Hell, maybe he’d have to share his feelings more often.

“You’re my love. My Arackniss. I’ll love you whether you’re the world’s greatest assassin or permanently bedridden.”

That put a smile on Rakkie’s face. Yeah, stupid. You’re loved. Isn’t that good enough for you? Of course it is. He pulled out of the embrace long enough to peck at Pent’s cheek before resting his tired head on the serpent’s chest.

“Thanks, Pent. I love you, too.”

“We can figure everything out, I promise you that.” 

He punctuated the promise with a kiss on Rakkie’s forehead. Fuck Henroin. Fuck the Family. Fuck everyone who didn’t love him. He had Pent, he had Molly, he had Angel (maybe), and he had himself. 

What the fuck else could he want?

Soon they were both asleep in a big, tangled mess of flaws and scars and love. No matter what, it would be okay. 

*They* would be okay.

...

In a penthouse bedroom of the Serpent’s Lair, a spider’s heart hammered against his ribs. Liquor soaked through his brain and flooded away his inhibitions. Fuck, was he really about to do this?

A smooth, dark hand held his lower back. The other stroked his cheek as he tried to look away from the serpent’s crimson eyes. Slender fingers ran down to his chin, lifting his head and forcing their gazes to meet.

“Feeling a bit timid, little spider?” Arackniss could almost hear the laughter in his voice. Not that he was wrong, the smug bastard.

“Don’t call me ‘little.’” He meant to sound intimidating (and sexy), but his words came out as little more than a squeak. At least his face’s fuzz hid the blush spreading across his cheeks. A blush that only grew as the serpent’s hand travelled downward and cupped his groin... Sir Pentious’s eyes widened, and so did his smug little grin. 

“Oho! Not so ‘little’ after all!” A thin, pink tongue ran across his black lips, and Arackniss suddenly realized that he was already rock hard. 

“Oh, it’s been a *while* for you, hasn’t it? Poor thing...”

He tried to speak as Pentious began to take off his belt and slipped a hand down his pants. “No, I... do this all... the time…”

“Oh, hush. Let me take care of you.” Moments later, they were both undressed, garments thrown to the floor. Arackniss stared down at his unlikely bedfellow, straddling a muscular tail, feeling it brush against his own hard, twitching...

No, this wasn’t right. He couldn’t… He wasn’t…

“Is... something wrong?”

Arackniss blinked, suddenly aware of the tears welling in his eyes. He jumped back from the confused serpent, pushing away his exploring hands. No, God dammit, this wasn’t him! 

But… it was. 

It always had been. And he couldn’t help it any more. Arackniss brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his hands, curled in a small, pathetic bundle on a stranger’s bed. A *man’s* bed...

He cast a teary glance toward the concerned serpent. No backing out now. 

“Can you just… hold me? Please?”

Sir Pentious glanced down at the spider. He looked so confused, so afraid, so… small. Pent couldn’t help but pull him into a gentle embrace, letting his tail coil loosely around the mobster’s legs. 

Arackniss leaned into the hug, resting his head on the serpent’s chest. It felt wrong and right, strange and familiar. It felt... fuck it, he could figure it all out when he was sober. Not like anyone would find out. He could tell them he passed out on a couch somewhere...

As the day’s exhaustion weighed his eyelids down, he listened to the quiet heartbeat of Sir Pentious. What would become of them in the morning? This was the first person who knew who he *really* was, maybe even before Arackniss knew himself. Would they keep seeing each other? What if someone found out? Would they...

Rakkie didn’t have time to finish the thought before dozing off on Pent’s chest.

That night, Heaven shone over a city of vice and violence. One local gang counted their losses while another celebrated their success. A mafia family went about their lives, unaware that the cracks in their foundation would soon split apart. The very next morning, secrets would be revealed to the world and afterlives would be forever changed.

And in the middle of it all, two sinners shared the night. One wayward soul on another.

[ Black on black. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp5LavG3Oys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos, comments, fanart, and support. You kept me going, and for that I'm grateful. Author's notes coming soon!


	25. Final thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sentimental rambling ahead. You don't have to read it, of course. I just have to get it all out.

Wow.

This is it. The end of Black on Black. Took me long enough, huh? In all seriousness, thank you all for reading, giving kudos, and making some wonderful fanart. You kept me going in more ways than one.

As for what's next, I can't say for sure. We'll have to see what my schedule allows. Maybe I'll do a shorter story, or jump into an even larger project. I do plan to continue Angel's story, so stay tuned for that (and other Hazbin works, most likely). In the meantime, here are some other fics I recommend:

[Achieving Heaven through Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033401): A series by WriteAnon. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure meets Hazbin. I'm not a fan of Jojo, but I _am_ a fan of this. It's not smutty, but it has a good mix of humor, angst, and action. The author gave me some advice on the Headquarters fight scene, so if you liked that you might like this!

[Soul-Bound](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970773): A series by Total_Mal. SirDust is a rare ship, but I highly encourage you all to give this a read. Romance, smut, and HELLA angst. Holy shit, Total_Mal will tear out your heartstrings and play jump-rope with them, but oh man, is this fic worth it. Just mind the content warnings.

[Crimson Eyes and Silver Tongues](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941754): A series by InvalidTag. A series of smutty and/or angsty PentNiss shorts. I just discovered these, and they're already my favorite PentNiss stories! Not because the author complemented me, of course. That's unrelated.

[The Thief, The Spider, and the Hotel](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286831): A series by LazBriar. This is the series that inspired me to write longer fanfiction, and to this day I've never read anything like it. It's a reader/Angel Dust series, but it's also sort of not? The second-person narration might put you off at first, but stick with it. It's got action, smut, romance, angst, explosions, and unique worldbuilding. If you recognize the author's username, that's probably because he does Listener/Angel Dust videos (and other cool stuff). [Here's his channel, check it out!](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCLK3Cgk0bmUA2tu-jnFgQg)

Special thanks to WriteAnon, who (as stated above) gave me some advice on the final action scene, and to LazBriar. Without Laz's advice, this fic would have turned into a 'will they, won't they' mess. Thanks buddy, keep kicking ass!

Now I need something from you, dear reader. Specifically, criticism. There's always room for improvement, and who doesn't want to improve? I appreciate any critique you can leave in the comments below, even the harsh ones. No, _especially_ the harsh ones. Thank you!


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